FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM  TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 
SCO 


<£ 


R   103R 


QUARLES'    EMBLEMS 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
CHARLES    BENNETT    AND    W.     HARRY    ROGERS. 


FrcLY\cva       Qao^rW 


NEW    YORK: 

N.     TIBBALS     AND     CO.,     37,     PARK     ROW 

AND     145,     NASSAU     STREET. 


THE     ILLUSTRATIONS 
ENGRAVED     BY    JOSEPH     SWAIN     AND     EDMUND     EVAN; 


1 1 1 


\i\     MICH    ll<  >N<  \\  RED,    AND    \<  I    I  ESS     I  kl'l  \ 
BELOVED    FRIEND, 

EDWARD   BENLOWES,   ESQ. 


My  dear  Friend, 

T7"OU  have  put  the  Theorbo  into  my  hand,  and  I  have 
A  played  :  you  gave  the  musician  the  first  encourage- 
ment ;  the  music  returncth  to  you  for  patronage.  Had  it 
been  a  light  air,  no  doubt  but  it  had  taken  the  most,  and 
among  them  the  worst ;  but  being  a  grave  strain,  my 
hopes  are,  that  it  will  please  the  best,  and  among  them 
you.  Toyish  airs  please  trivial  cars  ;  they  kiss  the  fancy, 
and  betray  it.  They  cry,  Hail,  first ;  and  after,  Crucify  : 
Let  daws  delight  to  immerd  themselves  in  dung,  whilst 
eagles  scorn  so  poor  a  game  as  flies.  Sir,  you  have  art 
and  candour;   let  the  one  judge,  let  the  other  excuse. 

Your  most  affectionate  Friend, 

ERA.   QUARLES. 


To  the   Reader 


A  N  Emblem  is  but  a  silent  parable :  Let  not  the 
tender  eye  check,  to  see  the  allusion  to  our  blessed 
Saviour  figured  in  these  types.  In  holy  Scripture  he  is 
sometimes  called  a  Sower  ;  sometimes  a  Fisher  ;  sometimes 
a  Physican  :  And  why  not  presented  so  as  well  to  the 
eye  as  to  the  ear  ?  Before  the  knowledge  of  letters,  God 
was  known  by  hieroglyphics.  And  indeed  what  are  the 
Heavens,  the  earth,  nay,  every  creature,  but  Hieroglyphics 
and  Emblems  of  his  glory  ?  I  have  no  more  to  say ;  I 
wish  thee  as  much  pleasure  in  the  reading,  as  I  had  in 
writing.      Farewell,  Reader. 

FRANCIS  QUARLES. 


JT}  V  fathers  back'd,  by  holy  writ  led  on  : 

Thou  showst  the  way  to  HEAV'N  by  Helicon  : 
The  Muses'  font  is  consecrate  by  thee, 
And  Poesy  baptized  Divinity  : 

Bless'd  soul,  that  here  embark'st  :   thou  fail'st  apace, 
'Tis  hard  to  say,  mov'd  more  by  wit  or  grace, 
Each  muse  so  plies  her  oar  :   But  O  the  sail 
Is  fill'd  from  Heav'n  with  a  diviner  gale  : 
When  poets  prove  divines,  why  should  not  I 
Approve  in  verse  this  divine  poetry  ? 

Let  this  suffice  to  license  thee  the  press  : 

I  must  no  more  ;   nor  could  the  truth  say  less. 

Sic  approbavit. 

RIC.    LOVE,  P  roc  an.  Cant. 


Tot  F lores  QUARLES,  quot  Paradisus  habet 
Lectori  bene  malc-voXo. 

Qui  legit  ex  Horto  hoc  Flores,  qui  carpit,  utcrque 

Jure  potest  Violas  dicere,  jure  Rosas  : 
Non  e  Paruasso  VIOL  AM,  festive  ROSE  TO 

Carpit  Apollo,  magis  quae  sit  amcena,  ROSAM. 
Quot   Versus  VIOLAS  legis ;   &  quern  verba  locutum 

Credis,  verba  dedit  :   Nam  dedit  ille  ROSAS. 
Utque  Ego  non  dicam  haec  VIOLAS  suavissima  ;    Tute 

Ipse  facis   VIOLAS,  Livide,  si  violas. 
Nam  velut  e   VIOLIS  sibi  fugit  Arauea  virus  : 

Vertis  at  in  succos  Hasque  ROSAS  que  tuos. 
Quas  violas  Musas,   VIOLAS  puto,  quasque  recusas 

Dente  tuo  rosas,  has,  reor,  esse  ROSAS. 
Sic  rosas,  facis  esse  ROSAS,  dum  Zoile,  rodis  : 

Sic  facies  has  VIOLAS,  Livide,  dum  violas. 

EDW.  BENLOWES. 

Brent-Hall,  1634. 


BOOK    THE    FIRST 


ROUSE  thee,  my  soul ;  and  drain  thee  from  the  dregs 
Of  vulgar  thoughts  ;  screw  up  the  heighten'd  pegs 
Of  thy  sublime  Theorbo  four  notes  high'r, 
And  high'r  yet,  that  so  the  shrill-mouth'd  quire 
Of  swift-wing'd  seraphims  may  come  and  join, 
And  make  the  concert  more  than  half  divine. 
Invoke  no  muse  ;  let  Heav'n  be  thine  Apollo ; 
And  let  his  sacred  influences  hallow 
Thy  high-bred  strains.      Let  his  full  beams  inspire 
Thy  ravish'd  brains  with  more  heroic  fire  : 
Snatch  thee  a  quill  from  the  spread  eagle's  wing, 
And,  like  the  morning  lark,  mount  up  and  sing  : 
Cast  off  these  dangling  plummets,  that  so  clog 
Thy  lab'ring  heart,  which  gropes  in  this  dark  fog 
Of  dungeon  earth ;  let  flesh  and  blood  forbear 
To  stop  thy  flight,  till  this  base  world  appear 


B    2 


The  Invocation. 

A  thin  blue  landscape  :   let  thy  pinions  soar 

So  high  a  pitch,  that  men  may  seem  no  more 

Than  pismires,  crawling  on  the  mole-hill  earth, 

Thine  ear  untroubled  with  their  frantic  mirth ; 

Let  not  the  frailty  of  thy  flesh  disturb 

Thy  new-concluded  peace ;  let  reason  curb 

Thy  hot-mouth'd  passion;   and  let  Heav'n's  fire  season 

The  fresh  conceits  of  thy  corrected  reason. 

Disdain  to  warm  thee  at  lust's  smoky  fires, 

Scorn,  scorn  to  feed  on  thy  old  bloat  desires  : 

Come,  come,  my  soul,  hoist  up  thy  higher  sails, 

The  wind  blows  fair ;  shall  we  still  creep  like  snails, 

That  glide  their  ways  with  their  own  native  slimes  % 

No,  we  must  fly  like  eagles,  and  our  rhymes 

Must  mount  to  Heav'n,  and  reach  the  Olympic  ear ; 

Our  Heav'n-blown  fire  must  seek  no  other  sphere. 

Thou,  great  Theanthropos,  that  giv'st  and  ground'st 
Thy  gifts  in  dust,  and  from  our  dunghill  crown'st 
Reflecting  honour,  taking  by  retail 
What  thou  hast  giv'n  in  gross,  from  lapsed,  frail, 
And  sinful  man  :  that  drink'st  full  draughts,  wherein 
Thy  children's  leprous  fingers,  scurf'd  with  sin, 
Have  paddled  ;  cleanse,  O  cleanse  my  crafty  soul 
From  secret  crimes,  and  let  my  thoughts  control 
My  thoughts  :   O  teach  me  stoutly  to  deny 
Myself,  that  I  may  be  no  longer  I  :   - 
Enrich  my  fancy,  clarify  my  thoughts, 
Refine  my  dross ;   O  wink  at  human  faults  ; 


The  Invocation. 

And  through  the  slender  conduit  of  my  quill 
Convey  thy  current,  whose  clear  streams  may  fill 
The  hearts  of  men  with  love,  their  tongues  with  praise 
Crown  me  with  glory,  take,  who  list,  the  bays. 


Every  man  is  tempted,  when  he  is  drawn  aivay  by  his  own 
lust,  and  enticed. — James  i.  14. 

Serpent.    (Ebz. 

Serp.   Not  eat  ?  not  taste  ?  not  touch  ?  not  cast  an  eye 
Upon  the  fruit  of  this  fair  tree  ?  and  why  ? 
Why  eat'st  thou  not  what  Heav'n  ordain'd  for  food  ? 
Or  canst  thou  think  that  bad  which  Heav'n  call'd  good  ? 
Why  was  it  made,  if  not  to  be  enjoy'd  ? 
Neglect  of  favours  makes  a  favour  void  : 
Blessings  unus'd,  pervert  into  a  waste 
As  well  as  surfeits  :   woman,  do  but  taste  : 
See  how  the  laden  boughs  make  silent  suit 
To  be  enjoy'd  :  look  how  their  bending  fruit 
Meet  thee  half-way  :   observe  but  how  they  crouch 
To  kiss  thy  hand  ;   coy  woman,  do  but  touch  : 
Mark  what  a  pure  vermillion  blush  has  dyed 
Their  swelling  cheeks,  and  how  for  shame  they  hide 
Their  palsy  heads,  to  see  themselves  stand  by 
Neglected  :  woman,  do  but  cast  an  eye. 
What  bounteous  Heav'n  ordain'd  for  use,  refuse  not  : 
Come,  pull  and  cat  :   y'  abuse  the  thing  ye  use  not. 


Quart es  Emblems. 

Eve.  Wisest  of  beasts,  our  great  Creator  did  ' 
Reserve  this  tree,  and  this  alone  forbid  ; 
The  rest  are  freely  ours,  which  doubtless  are 
As  pleasing  to  the  taste  ;   to  the  eye  as  fair  : 
But  touching  this,  his  strict  commands  are  such 
Tis  death  to  taste,  no  less  than  death  to  touch. 

Serp.   Pish  ;  death's  a  fable ;  did  not  Heav'n  inspire 
Your  equal  elements  with  living  fire, 
Blown  from  the  spring  of  life  ?      Is  not  that  breath 
Immortal  %  come  ;  ye  are  as  free  from  death 
As  he  that  made  you.      Can  the  flames  expire 
Which  he  has  kindled  ;   can  ye  quench  his  fire  ? 
Did  not  the  great  Creator's  voice  proclaim 
Whate'er  he  made,  from  the  blue  spangled  frame 
To  the  poor  leaf  that  trembles,  very  good  ? 
Bless'd  he  not  both  the  feeder  and  the  food  ? 
Tell,  tell  me  then,  what  danger  can  accrue 
From  such  bless'd  food,  to  such  half  gods  as  you  ? 
Curb  needless  fears,  and  let  no  fond  conceit 
Abuse  your  freedom  ;  woman,  take  and  eat. 

Eve.  'Tis  true,  we  are  immortal;  death  is  yet 
Unborn,  and,  till  rebellion  make  it  death, 
Undue  ;   I  know  the  fruit  is  good,  until 
Presumptuous  disobedience  make  it  ill. 
The  lips  that  open  to  this  fruit's  a  portal 
To  let  in  death,  and  make  immortal  mortal. 

Serp.  You  cannot  die ;  come,  woman,  taste  and  fear  not. 

Eve.   Shall  Eve  transgress  ?    I  dare  not,  O,  I  dare  not. 

Serp.  Afraid  ?  why  draw'st  thou  back  thy  tim'rous  arm  ? 
Harm  only  falls  on  such  as  fear  a  harm. 
Heav'n  knows  and  fears  the  virtue  of  this  tree  : 
'Twill  make  you  perfect  gods  as  well  as  he. 


Quarks*  Emblems,  9 

Stretch  forth  thy  hand,  and  let  thy  fondness  never 

Fear  death  :   do,  pull,  and  cat,  and  live  for  ever. 

Eve,   'Tis  but  an  apple;    and  it  is  as  good 
To  do  as  to  desire.      Fruit's  made  for  food  : 
I'll  pull,  and  taste,  and  tempt  my  Adam  too 
To  know  the  secrets  of  this  dainty. 

Serf,  Do. 

S.  Ciirvs.  sup.  Matth. 
He    forced   him   not  :   he   touched   him   not  :    only   said, 
( ast    tliysclf   down ;    that   we    may    know,    that    wrhosoevcr 
obeyeth  the  devil,  casteth  himself  down  :   for  the  devil  may 
suggest,  compel  he  cannot. 

S.  Bern,  in  Sen 

It  is  the  devil's  part  to  suggest  :  ours,  not  to  consent. 
As  oft  as  we  resist  him,  so  often  we  overcome  him  :  as  often 
as  we  overcome  him,  so  often  we  bring  joy  to  the  angels, 
and  glory  to  God  ;  who  opposeth  us,  that  we  may  contend  ; 
and  assisteth  us,  that  we  may  conquer. 

Epig.    i  . 
Unlucky  parliament !  wherein,  at  last, 
Both  houses  are  agreed,  and  firmly  past 
An  act  of  death  confirm'd  by  higher  pow'rs  ; 
O  had  it  had  but  such  success  as  ours  ! 


Then  when  lust  hath  conceived,  it  bringeth  forth  sin  ;  and  sin, 
when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth  death. — JAMES  I.  15. 

LAMENT,  lament ;  look,  look,  what  thou  hast  done  : 

Lament  the  world's,  lament  thine  own  estate  : 
Look,  look,  by  doing",  how  thou  art  undone  ; 

Lament  thy  fall,  lament  thy  change  of  state  : 
Thy  faith  is  broken,  and  thy  freedom  gone, 

See,  see  too  soon,  what  thou  lament'st  too  late, 
O  thou  that  wert  so  many  men,  nay,  all 
Abridg'd  in  one,  how  has  thy  desp'rate  fall 
Destroy'd  thy  unborn  seed,  destroy'd  thyself  withal ! 


Uxorious  Adam,  whom  thy  Maker  made 

Equal  to  angels  that  excel  in  pow'r, 
What  hast  thou  done  ?      O  why  hast  thou  obey'd 
Thine  own  destruction  ?  like  a  new-cropt  flow'r, 
How  does  the  glory  of  thy  beauty  fade  ! 
How  are  thy  fortunes  blasted  in  an  hour  ! 

How  art  thou  cow'd  that  hast  the  pow'r  to  quell 
The  spite  of  new  fall'n  angels,  baffle  hell, 
And  vie  with  those  that  stood,  and  vanquish  those 
that  fell. 


I  2  Quarles  Emblems. 

See  how  the  world  (whose  chaste  and  pregnant  womb 

Of  late  conceiv'd,  and  brought  forth  nothing  ill) 
Is  now  degenerated,  and  become 

A  base  adult'ress,  whose  false  births  do  fill 

The  earth  with  monsters,  monsters  that  do  roam 

And  rage  about,  and  make  a  trade  to  kill  : 

Now  glutt'ny  paunches  ;   lust  begins  to  spawn  ; 
Wrath  takes  revenge,  and  avarice  a  pawn  ; 
Pale  envy  pines,  pride  swells,  and  sloth  begins  to  yawn. 

The  air  that  whisper'd  now  begins  to  roar ; 

And  blust'ring  Boreas  blows  the  boiling  tide  ; 
The  white-mouth'd  water  now  usurps  the  shore, 
And  scorns  the  pow'r  of  her  tridental  guide  ; 
The  fire  now  burns,  that  did  but  warm  before, 
And  rules  her  ruler  with  resistless  pride  : 

Fire,  water,  earth,  and  air,  that  first  were  made 
To  be  subdu'd,  see  how  they  now  invade  ; 
They  rule  whom  once  they  serv'd,  command  where  once 
obey'd. 

Behold,  that  nakedness,  that  late  bewray'd 

Thy  glory,  now's  become  thy  shame,  thy  wonder; 
Behold,  those  trees  whose  various  fruits  were  made 

For  food,  now  turn'd  a  shade  to  shroud  thee  under ; 
Behold,  that  voice  (which  thou  hast  disobey'd) 
That  late  was  music,  now  affrights  like  thunder. 
Poor  man  !   are  not  thy  joints  grown  faint  with 

shaking 
To  view  th'  effect  of  thy  bold  undertaking, 
That  in  one  hour  didst  mar  what  Heav'n  six  days  was 
making. 


Quarles*  Emblem* 


1  J 


S.  AUGUST,  lib.  I.  de  Lib.  Arbit. 
It  is  a  most  just  punishment,  that  man  should  lose  that 
freedom,  which  man  could  not  use,  yet  had  power  to  keep,  if 
he  would  :  and  that  he  who  had  knowledge  to  do  what  was 
right,  and  did  not,  should  be  deprived  of  the  knowledge 
o(  what  was  right ;  and  that  he  who  would  not  do  righteously, 
when  he  had  the  power,  should  lose  the  power  to  do  it,  when 
he  had  the  will. 

HUGO  de  Anima. 
They  are  justly  punished  that  abuse  lawful   things,  but 
they  are   most   justly  punished,   that   use   unlawful    things  : 
thus  Lucifer  fell  from  heaven  :    thus  Adam  lost  his  paradise. 

Epig.  2. 
See  how  these  fruitful  kernels,  being  cast 
Upon  the  earth,  how  thick  they  spring !  how  fast ! 
A  full  ear'd  crop  and  thriving,  rank  and  proud  ! 
Prepost'rous  man  first  sow'd,  and  then  he  plough'd. 


-Jo^ 


Even  in  laughter  the  heart  is  sorrowful;  and  the  end  of 
that  mirth  is  heaviness. — Prov.  xiv.  13. 

Alas  !    fond  child, 
How  are  thy  thoughts  beguil'd 
To  hope  for  honey  from  a  nest  of  wasps  ? 
Thou  may'st  as  well 
Go  seek  for  ease  in  hell, 
Or  sprightly  nectar  from  the  mouth  of  asps. 

The  world's  a  hive, 
From  whence  thou  canst  derive 
No  good,  but  what  thy  soul's  vexation  brings  : 
But  case  thou  meet 
Some  petty-petty  sweet, 
Each  drop  is  guarded  with  a  thousand  stings. 


Why  dost  thou  make 
These  murm'ring  troops  forsake 
The  safe  protection  of  their  waxen  homes  ? 


1 6  Quarlcs  Emblems. 

Their  hive  contains 
No  sweet  that's  worth  thy  pains ; 
There's  nothing  here,  alas!  but  empty  combs. 

For  trash  and  toys, 
And  grief-engend'ring  joys, 
What  torment  seems  too  sharp  for  flesh  and  blood 
What  bitter  pills, 
Compos'd  of  real  ills, 
Men  swallow  down  to  purchase  one  false  good  ! 

The  dainties  here, 
Are  least  what  they  appear  ; 
Though  sweet  in  hopes,  yet  in  fruition  sour : 
The  fruit  that's  yellow, 
Is  found  not  always  mellow  ; 
The  fairest  tulip's  not  the  sweetest  flow'r. 

Fond  youth,  give  o'er, 
And  vex  thy  soul  no  more 
In  seeking  what  were  better  far  unfound  ; 
Alas  !  thy  gains 
Are  only  present  pains 
To  gather,  scorpions  for  a  future  wound. 

What's  earth  or  in  it, 
That  longer  than  a  minute, 
Can  lend  a  free  delight  that  can  endure  ? 
O  who  would  droil, 
Or  delve  in  such  a  soil, 
Where  gain's  uncertain,  and  the  pain  is  sure? 


Quarts'  Embie 


ms. 


S.  August. 

Sweetness  in  temporal  matters  is  deceitful  :  It  is  a  labour 
and  a  perpetual  fear;  it  is  a  dangerous  pleasure,  whose 
beginning  is  without  Providence,  and  whose  end  is  not  with- 
out repentance. 

Hugo. 
Luxury  is  an   enticing  pleasure,  a   bastard   mirth,  which 
hath  honey  in   her   mouth,  gall  in   her   heart,  and  a  sting   in 
her  tail. 


Epig.  3. 
Whit,  Cupid,  are  thy  shafts  already  made  ? 
And  seeking  honey  to  set  up  thy  trade, 
True  emblem  of  thy  sweets  !    thy  bees  do  bring 
Honey  in  their  mouths,  but  in  their  tails  a  sting. 


**•* 


To  be  laid  in  the  balance,  it  is  altogether  lighter  than 
vanity. — PSALM  LXII.  9. 

I'll  in  another  weight  :   'tis  yet  too  light  : 

And  yet,  fond  Cupid,  put  another  in  ; 
And  yet  another  :  still  there's  under  weight  : 
Put  in  another  hundred  :   put  again  ; 

Add  world  to  world  ;   then  heap  a  thousand  more 
To  that  ;  then,  to  renew  thy  wasted  store, 
Take  up  more  worlds  on  trust,  to  draw  thy  balance  low  Y. 


Put  in  the  flesh,  with  all  her  loads  of  pleasure  : 

Put  in  great  Mammon's  endless  inventory  ; 
Put  in  the  pondYous  acts  of  mighty  Caesar  : 
Put  in  the  greater  weight  of  Sweden's  glory  ; 
Add  Scipio's  gauntlet ;   put  in  Plato's  gown  : 
Put  Circe's  charms,  put  in  the  triple  crown. 
Thy  balance  will  not  draw;   thy  balance  will  not  down. 


' 


20  Quarles  Emblems. 

Lord  !    what  a  world  is  this,  which  day  and  night, 

Men  seek  with  so  much  toil,  with  so  much  trouble  % 
Which,  weigh'd  in  equal  scales,  is  found  so  light, 
So  poorly  overbalanc'd  with  a  bubble ! 

Good  God  !    that  frantic  mortals  should  destroy 
Their  higher  hopes,  and  place  their  idle  joy 
Upon  such  airy  trash,  upon  so  light  a  toy  ! 

Thou  bold  impostor,  how  hast  thou  befool'd 
The  tribe  of  man  with  counterfeit  desire  ! 
How  has  the  breath  of  thy  false  bellows  cool'd 

Heav'n's  freeborn  flame,  and  kindled  bastard  fire  ! 
How  hast  thou  vented  dross  instead  of  treasure, 
And  cheated  men  with  thy  false  weights  and  measure, 
Proclaiming  bad  for  good  ;   and  gilding  death  with  pleasure ! 

The  world's  a  crafty  strumpet,  most  affecting 

And  closely  following  those  that  most  reject  her ; 
But  seeming  careless,  nicely  disrespecting 

And  coyly  flying  those  that  most  affect  her ; 

If  thou  be  free,  she's  strange ;   if  strange,  she's  free  ; 
Flee,  and  she  follows  ;   follow,  and  she'll  flee ; 
Than  she  there's  none  more  coy,  there's  none  more  fond 
than  she. 

O  what  a  crocodilian  world  is  this, 

Compos'd  of  treach'ries,  and  insnaring  wiles  ! 
She  clothes  destruction  in  a  formal  kiss, 
And  lodges  death  in  her  deceitful  smiles ; 

She  hugs  the  soul  she  hates  ;  and  there  does  prove 
The  veriest  tyrant,  where  she  vows  to  love ; 
And  is  a  serpent  most,  when  most  she  seems  a  dove. 


Quarles*  Emblems.  2  1 

Thrice  happy  he,  whose  nobler  thoughts  despise 

To  make  an  object  of  SO  easy  gains  ; 
Thrice  happy  he,  who  scorns  SO  poor  a  prize 
Should  be  the  crown  of  his  heroic  pains  : 
Thrice  happy  he,  who  ne'er  was  born  to  try 
Her  frowns  or  smiles  :   or  being  born,  did  lie 
In  his  sad  nurse's  arms  an  hour  or  two,  and  die. 

S.  AUGUST,  lib.  Confess. 
O  you  that  dote  upon  this  world,  for  what  victory  do  ye 
fight  ?  Your  hopes  can  be  crowned  with  no  greater  reward 
than  the  world  can  give  ;  and  what  is  the  world,  but  a  brittle 
thing  full  of  dangers,  wherein  we  travel  from  lesser  to  greater 
perils  ?  O  let  all  her  vain,  light,  momentary  glory  perish 
with  herself,  and  let  us  be  conversant  with  more  eternal 
things.  Alas !  this  world  is  miserable ;  life  is  short,  and 
death  is  sure. 

Epig.  4. 
My  soul,  what's  lighter  than  a  feather?     Wind. 
Than  wind  ?     The  fire.     And  what,  than  fire  ?     The  mind. 
What's  lighter  than  the  mind?  A  thought.    Than  thought  ? 
This  bubble  world.      What,  than  this  bubble  ?      Nought. 


/•_r- 


^  "'/HP  Ik  JH^iirJNL- 


'Flic  fashion  of  this  world  passcth  away. —  I   Cor.  VII.  41 


GONE  are  those  golden  days  wherein 

Pale  conscience  started  not  at  ugly  sin  : 
When  good  old  Saturn's  peaceful  throne 

Was  unusurped  by  his  beardless  son  : 
When  jealous  Ops  ne'er  fear'd  th'  abuse 

Of  her  chaste  bed,  or  breach  of  nuptial  truce  : 
When  just  Astrea  pois'd  her  scales 

In  mortal  hearts,  whose  absence  earth  bewails  : 
When  froth-born  Venus  and  her  brat, 

With  all  that  spurious  brood  young  Jove  begat, 
In  horrid  shapes  were  yet  unknown  ; 

Those  halcyon  days,  that  golden  age  is  gone. 
There  was  no  client  then  to  wait 

The  leisure  of  his  long-tail'd  advocate  ; 
The  talion  law  was  in  request, 

And  Chanc'ry  Courts  were  kept  in  every  breast 
Abused  statutes  had  no  tenters, 

And  men  could  deal  secure  without  indentures  : 


24  Quarks  Emblems. 

There  was  no  peeping  hole  to  clear 

The  wittal's  eye  from  his  incarnate  fear  : 
There  were  no  lustful  cinders  then 

To  broil  the  carbonado'd  hearts  of  men  : 
The  rosy  cheeks  did  then  proclaim 

A  shame  of  guilt,  but  not  a  guilt  of  shame  : 
There  was  no  whining  soul  to  start 

At  Cupid's  twang,  or  curse  his  flaming  dart : 
The  boy  had  then  but  callow  wings, 

And  fell  Erennys'  scorpions  had  no  stings : 
The  better-acted  world  did  move 

Upon  the  fixed  poles  of  truth  and  love. 
Love  essenc'd  in  the  hearts  of  men  ! 

Then  reason  rul'd,  there  was  no  passion  then  ; 
Till  lust  and  rage  began  to  enter, 

Love  the  circumf'rence  was,  and  love  the  centre; 
Until  the  wanton  days  of  Jove, 

The  simple  world  was  all  compos'd  of  love ; 
But  Jove  grew  fleshly,  false,  unjust ; 

Inferior  beauty  fill'd  his  veins  with  lust  : 
And  cucquean  Juno's  fury  hurl'd 

Fierce  balls  of  rape  into  th'  incestuous  world : 
Astrea  fled,  and  love  return'd 

From  earth,  earth  boil'd  with  lust,  with  rage  it 
burn'd, 
And  ever  since  the  world  hath  been 

Kept  going  with  the  scourge  of  lust  and  spleen. 


S.  Ambrose. 
Lust  is  a  sharp  spur  to  vice,  which  always  putteth  the 
affections  into  a  false  gallop. 


Quarles*  Emblems.  \  \ 


Hugo. 

Lust  is  an  immoderate   wantonness  of  the  flesh,  a 
poison,    a    cruel    pestilence;     a     pernicious     poison,     which 
weakeneth  the  body  of  man,  and  effeminateth  the  strength 

of  an  heroic  mind. 

S.  August. 
Envy  is  the  hatred  of  another's  felicity  :  in  respect  of 
superiors,  because  they  are  not  equal  to  them  ;  in  respect  of 
inferiors,  lest  he  should  be  equal  to  them  ;  in  respect  of 
equals,  because  they  are  equal  to  them.  Through  envy 
proceeded  the  fall  of  the  world,  and  death  of  CHRIST. 

EPIG.  5. 
What,  Cupid,  must  the  world  be  lash'd  so  soon  ? 
But  made  at  morning,  and  be  whipt  at  noon  ? 
Tis  like  the  wag,  that  plays  with  Venus'  doves, 
The  more  'tis  lash'd,  the  more  perverse  it  proves. 


All  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. — ECCLES.  II.   17. 

How  is  the  anxious  soul  of  man  befool'd 

In  his  desire, 
That  thinks  an  hectic  fever  may  be  cool'd 

In  flames  of  fire  ? 
Or  hopes  to  rake  full  heaps  of  burnish'd  gold 

From  nasty  mire  ? 
A  whining  lover  may  as  well  request 

A  scornful  breast 
To  melt  in  gentle  tears,  as  woo  the  world  for  rest. 


Let  wit,  and  all  her  study'd  plots  effect 

The  best  they  can  ; 
Let  smiling  fortune  prosper  and  perfect 

What  wit  began  ; 
Let  earth  advise  with  both,  and  so  project 

A  happy  man ; 
Let  wit  or  fawning  fortune  vie  their  best  : 

He  may  be  blest 
With  all  the  earth  can  give  ;   but  earth  can  give 
no  rest. 


28  Quarles  Emblems. 

Whose  gold  is  double  with  a  careful  hand, 

His  cares  are  double ; 
The  pleasure,  honour,  wealth  of  sea  and  land 

Bring  but  a  trouble ; 
The  world  itself,  and  all  the  world's  command, 

Is  but  a  bubble. 
The  strong  desires  of  man's  insatiate  breast 

May  stand  possest 
Of  all  that  earth  can  give ;  but  earth  can  give 
no  rest. 

The  world's  a  seeming  paradise,  but  her  own 

And  man's  tormentor ; 
Appearing  fix'd,  yet  but  a  rolling  stone 

Without  a  tenter ; 
It  is  a  vast  circumference,  where  none 

Can  find  a  centre. 
Of  more  than  earth,  can  earth  make  none  possest ; 

And  he  that  least 
Regards  this  restless  world,  shall  in  this  world 
find  rest. 

True  rest  consists  not  in  the  oft  revying 

Of  worldly  dross ; 
Earth's  miry  purchase  is  not  worth  the  buying ; 

Her  gain  is  loss  ; 
Her  rest  but  giddy  toil,  if  not  relying 

Upon  her  cross. 
How  worldlings  droil  for  trouble  !   that  fond  breast 

That  is  possess'd 
Of  earth  without  a  cross,  has  earth  without  a  rest. 


Quarlts?  Emblems, 


Cass,  in  Ps. 
The  cross  is  the  invincible  sanctuary  of  the  humble,  the 
dejection  of  the  proud,  the  victory  of  Christ,  the  destruction 
of  the  devil,  the  confirmation  of  the  faithful,  the  death  of  the 
unbeliever,  the  life  of  the  just. 

Damascen. 
The   cross  of  Christ   is  the  key  of  paradise  ;    the  weak 
man's  staff;  the  convert's  convoy;  the  upright  man's  perfec- 
tion ;  the  soul  and  body's  health  ;   the  prevention  of  all  evil, 
and  the  procurer  of  all  good. 

Epig.  6. 
Worldlings,  whose  whimp'ring  folly  holds  the  losses 
Of  honour,  pleasure,  health,  and  wealth  such  crosses, 
Look  here,  and  tell  me  what  your  arms  engross, 
When  the  best  end  of  what  he  hugs's  a  cross? 


Be  sober,  be  vigilant;   because  your  adversary  the  devil, 

as   a    roaring  lion,    walketh    about,    seeking   whom    he    may 

devour— \  Peter  v.  8. 

Why  dost  thou  suffer  lustful  sloth  to  creep, 
Dull  Cyprian  lad,  into  thy  wanton  brows  ; 
Is  this  a  time  to  pay  thine  idle  vows 

At  Morpheus'  shrine  ?      Is  this  a  time  to  steep 
Thy  brains  in  wasteful  slumbers  ?   up,  and  rouse 

Thy  leaden  spirit  :   is  this  a  time  to  sleep  ? 
Adjourn  thy  sanguine  dreams,  awake,  arise, 
Call  in  thy  thoughts,  and  let  them  all  advise, 

Hadst  thou  as  man)-  heads  as  thou  hast  wounded  eyes. 

Look,  look,  what  horrid  furies  do  await 

Thy  flatt'ring  slumbers  !      If  thy  drowsy  head 
But  chance  to  nod,  thou  fall'st  into  a  bed 

Of  sulph'rous  flames,  whose  torments  want  a  date. 
Fond  boy,  be  wise,  let  not  thy  thoughts  be  fed 

With  Phrygian  wisdom  ;    fools  are  wise  too  late  : 
Beware  betimes,  and  let  thy  reason  sever 
Those  gates  which  passion  clos'd  ;  wake  now  or  never  ; 

For  if  thou  nod'st  thou  fall'st:  and,  falling,  fall'st  for  ever. 


32  Quarles  Emblems. 

Mark,  how  the  ready  hands  of  death  prepare  : 

His  bow  is  bent,  and  he  hath  notch'd  his  dart ; 

He  aims,  he  levels  at  thy  slumb'ring  heart : 
The  wound  is  posting,  O  be  wise,  beware. 

What,  has  the  voice  of  danger  lost  the  art 
To  raise  the  spirit  of  neglected  care  % 

Well,  sleep  thy  fill,  and  take  thy  soft  reposes  ; 

But  know,  withal,  sweet  tastes  have  sour  closes ; 
And  he  repents  in  thorns,  that  sleeps  in  beds  of  roses. 

Yet,  sluggard,  wake,  and  gull  thy  soul  no  more 

With  earth's  false  pleasures,  and  the  world's  delight, 
Whose  fruit  is  fair  and  pleasing  to  the  sight, 

But  sour  in  taste,  false  as  the  putrid  core  : 
Thy  flaring  glass  is  gems  at  her  half  light ; 

She  makes  thee  seeming  rich,  but  truly  poor  : 
She  boasts  a  kernel,  and  bestows  a  shell ; 
Performs  an  inch  of  her  fair-promis'd  ell  : 

Her  words  protest  a  heav'n  ;    her  works  produce 
a  hell. 

O  thou,  the  fountain  of  whose  better  part, 
Is  earth'd  and  gravel'd  up  with  vain  desire : 
That  daily  wallow'st  in  the  fleshly  mire 

And  base  pollution  of  a  lustful  heart, 

That  feel'st  no  passion,  but  in  wanton  fire, 

And  own'st  no  torment,  but  in  Cupid's  dart ; 
Behold  thy  type  :   thou  sitt'st  upon  this  ball 
Of  earth,  secure,  while  death  that  flings  at  all, 

Stands  arm'd  to  strike  thee  down,  where  flames  attend 
thy  fall. 


Quarles*  Emblems. 


S.  Bern. 
Security  is  no  where  ;  neither  In  heaven  nor  in  paradise, 

much  less  in  the  world  :  In  heaven  the  angels  fell  from  the 
divine  presence  ;  in  paradise,  Adam  fell  from  his  place  of 
pleasure;  in  the  world,  Judas  fell  from  the  school  of  our 
Saviour. 

Hugo. 

I  eat  secure,  I  drink  secure,  I  sleep  secure,  even  as  though 

I  had  passed  the  day  of  death,  avoided  the  day  of  judgment, 

and  escaped  the  torments  of  hell-fire  :    I   play  and  laugh,  as 

though  I  were  already  triumphing  in  the  kingdom  of  I  leaven. 

Epig.  7. 
Get  up,  my  soul ;   redeem  thy  slavish  eyes 
From  drowsy  bondage  :   O  beware,  be  wise  : 
Thy  foe's  before  thee  ;   thou  must  fight,  or  fly  : 
Life  lies  most  open  in  a  closed  eye. 


Woe  unto  you  that  laugh  now  I  for  ye  shall  mourn  and 
weep. — Luke  vi.  25. 

The  world's  a  popular  disease,  that  reigns 

Within  the  froward  heart  and  frantic  brains 

Of  poor  distemper'd  mortals,  oft  arising 

From  ill  digestion,  th'  unequal  poising 

Of  ill-weigh'd  elements,  whose  light  directs 

Malignant  humours  to  malign  effects  : 

One  raves  and  labours  with  a  boiling  liver  : 

Rends  hair  by  handfuls,  cursing  Cupid's  quiver  ; 

Another,  with  a  bloody  flux  of  oaths, 

Vows  deep  revenge  :   one  doats  ;   the  other  loaths  : 

One  frisks  and  sings,  and  cries,  A  flagon  more 

To  drench  dry  cares,  and  make  the  welkin  roar  ; 

Another  droops  :   the  sun-shine  makes  him  sad  ; 

Heav'n  cannot  please  ;  one's  mopp'd  :   the  other's  mad 

One  hugs  his  gold  ;   another  lets  it  fly  : 

He  knowing  not  for  whom  ;   nor  t'other  why. 

One  spends  his  day  in  plots,  his  night  in  play  ; 

Another  sleeps  and  slugs  both  night  and  day  : 

One  laughs  at  this  thing,  t'other  cries  for  that. 

D  2 


36  Quarks  Emblems. 

Wonder  of  wonders  !      What  we  ought  t'  evite 
As  our  disease,  we  hug  as  our  delight : 
'Tis  held  a  symptom  of  approaching  danger, 
When  disacquainted  sense  becomes  a  stranger, 
And  takes  no  knowledge  of  an  old  disease ; 
But  when  a  noisome  grief  begins  to  please 
The  unresisting  sense,  it  is  a  fear 
That  death  has  parly'd,  and  compounded  there  : 
As  when  the  dreadful  Thund'rer's  awful  hand 
Pours  forth  a  vial  on  the  infected  land, 
At  first  the  aftright'ned  mortals  quake  and  fear 
And  ev'ry  noise  is  thought  the  Thunderer  : 
But  when  the  frequent  soul-departing  bell 
Has  pav'd  their  ears  with  her  familiar  knell, 
It  is  reputed  but  a  nine-days'  wonder, 
They  neither  fear  the  Thund'rer  nor  his  thunder. 
So  when  the  world  (a  worse  disease)  began 
To  smart  for  sin,  poor  new-created  man 
Could  seek  for  shelter,  and  his  gen'rous  son 
Knew  by  his  wages  what  his  hands  had  done  : 
But  bold-faced  mortals  in  our  blushless  times 
Can  sing  and  smile,  and  make  a  sport  of  crimes, 
Transgress  of  custom,  and  rebel  in  ease, 
We  false-joy'd  fools  can  triumph  in  disease, 
And  (as  the  careless  pilgrim,  being  bit 
By  the  tarantula,  begins  a  fit 
Of  life-concluding  laughter)  waste  our  breath 
In  lavish  pleasure,  till  we  laugh  to  death. 


HUGO  de  Anima. 
What  profit  is  there  in  vain  glory,  momentary  mirth,  the 
world's  power,  the  flesh's  pleasure,  full  riches,  noble  descent, 


Q nai /< w '  / i m bit ■  /;/ s. 


and  great  desires  1  Where  is  their  laughter  1  When  i  their 
mirth  1     Where  their  insolence  1  their  arrogance  1     Fromhow 

much  joy  to  how  much  sadness  I  After  how  much  mirth, 
how  much  misery!  From  how  great  glory  are  they  fallen. 
to  how  great  torment  !  What  hath  fallen  to  them,  may 
befal  thee,  because  thou  art  a  man  :  Thou  art  of  earth  ;  thou 
livest  of  earth  ;  thou  shalt  return  to  earth.  Death  expecteth 
thee  every-where !  Be  wise,  therefore,  and  expect  death 
every-where. 

EPia  8. 

What  ails  the  fool  to  laugh?      Does  something  please 
His  vain  conceit?      Or  is't  a  mere  disease? 
Fool,  giggle  on,  and  waste  thy  wanton  breath  ; 
Thy  morning  laughter  breeds  an  ev'ning  death. 


«s 


The  world passeth  away,  and  all  the  lusts  thereof. — 
i  John  ii.  17. 

Draw  near,  brave  sparks,  whose  spirits  scorn  to  light 

Your  hollow  tapers  but  at  honour's  flame  ; 
You,  whose  heroic  actions  take  delight 

To  varnish  over  a  new  painted  name  : 
Whose  high-bred  thoughts  disdain  to  take  their  flight, 

But  on  th'  Icarian  wings  of  babbling  fame  ; 

Behold,  how  tottering  are  your  high-built  stories 
Of  earth,  whereon  you  trust  the  ground-work  of  your 
glories. 


And  you,  more  brain-sick  lovers,  that  can  prize 

A  wanton  smile  before  eternal  joys  ; 
That  know  no  heaven  but  in  your  mistress'  eyes  ; 

That  feel  no  pleasure  but  what  sense  enjoys  : 
That  can,  like  crown-distemper'd  fools  despise 

True  riches,  and  like  babies  whine  for  toys  : 

Think  ye  the  pageants  of  your  hopes  are  able 
To  stand  secure  on  earth,  when  earth  itself  s  unstable  1 


40  Quarks  Emblems. 

Come,  dunghill  worldlings,  you  that  root  like  swine, 

And  cast  up  golden  trenches  where  you  come  : 
Whose  only  pleasure  is  to  undermine, 

And  view  the  secrets  of  your  mother's  womb  : 
Come,  bring  your  saint  pouch'd  in  his  leathern  shrine, 

And  summon  all  your  griping  angels  home ; 

Behold  the  world,  the  bank  of  all  your  store, 
The  world  ye  so  admire,  the  world  ye  so  adore. 

A  feeble  world,  whose  hot-mouth'd  pleasures  tire 
Before  the  race ;   before  the  start,  retreat ; 

A  faithless  world,  whose  false  delights  expire 
Before  the  term  of  half  their  promis'd  date  : 

A  fickle  world,  not  worth  the  least  desire, 

Where  ev'ry  chance  proclaims  a  change  of  state  : 
A  feeble,  faithless,  fickle  world  wherein 

Each  motion  proves  a  vice,  and  ev'ry  act  a  sin. 

The  beauty,  that  of  late  was  in  her  flow'r, 

Is  now  a  ruin,  not  to  raise  a  lust : 
He  that  was  lately  drench'd  in  Danae's  show'r, 

Is  master  now  of  neither  good  nor  trust ; 
Whose  honour  late  was  manned  with  princely  pow'r, 

His  glory  now  lies  buried  in  the  dust ; 

O  who  would  trust  this  world,  or  prize  what's  in  it, 
That    gives    and   takes,   and   chops   and   changes,   ev'ry 
minute? 

Nor  length  of  days,  nor  solid  strength  of  brain, 
Can  find  a  place  wherein  to  rest  secure  : 

The  world  is  various,  and  the  earth  is  vain ; 

There's  nothing  certain  here,  there's  nothing  sure  : 


QuarleJ  Emblems.  a  \ 

We  trudge,  we  travel,  but  from  pain  to  pain, 
And  what's  our  only  griefs  our  only  cure  : 

The  world's  a  torment  ;    he  that  would  endeavour 
To  find  the  way  to  rest,  must  seek  the  way  to  leave  her 

S.  Greg,  in  Horn. 
Behold,  the  world  is  withered  in  itself,  yet  flourisheth  in 
our  hearts,  every-where  death,  every-where  grief,  every-where 
desolation  :  On  every  side  we  arc  smitten  ;  on  every  side 
filled  with  bitterness,  and  yet,  with  the  blind  mind  of  carnal 
desire,  we  love  her  bitterness  :  It  flicth  and  we  follow  it ;  it 
fallcth,  yet  we  stick  to  it  :  And  because  we  cannot  enjoy  it 
falling-,  we  fall  with  it,  and  enjoy  it  fallen. 

Epig.  9. 
If  Fortune  fail,  or  envious  Time  but  spurn, 
The  world  turns  round,  and  with  the  world  we  turn  : 
When  Fortune  sees,  and  lynx-ey'd  Time  is  blind, 
I'll  trust  thy  joys,  O  world  ;   till  then,  the  wind. 


' 


Ye  arc  of  your  father  the  devil,  and  the  lusts  of  your  fathet 
ye  will  do. — JOHN  vm.  44. 

Here's  your  right  ground  :   wag  gently  o'er  this  black  : 

Tis  a  short  cast ;   y'  are  quickly  at  the  jack. 
Rub,  rub  an  inch  or  two  ;   two  crowns  to  one 

On  this  bowl's  side  ;   blow  wind,  'tis  fairly  thrown  : 
The  next  bowl's  worse  that  comes;  come,  bowl  away  : 

Mammon,  you  know  the  ground,  untutor'd  play  : 
Your  last  was  gone,  a  yard  of  strength  well  spar'd, 

Had  touch'd  the  block  ;   your  hand  is  still  too  hard. 
Brave  pastime,  readers,  to  consume  that  day, 

Which,  without  pastime,  flies  too  swift  away  ! 
See  how  they  labour;   as  if  day  and  night 

Were  both  too  short  to  serve  their  loose  delight  : 
See  how  their  curved  bodies  wreath,  and  screw 

Such  antic  shapes  as  Proteus  never  knew  : 
One  raps  an  oath,  another  deals  a  curse  ; 

He  never  better  bowl'd  ;   this  never  worse  : 
One  rubs  his  itchless  elbow,  shrugs  and  laughs, 

The  other  bends  his  beetle  brows,  and  chafes  : 


44  Quarles  Emblems. 

Sometimes  they  whoop,  sometimes  their  Stygian  cries 

Send  their  black  Santo's  to  the  blushing  skies  : 
Thus  mingling  humours  in  a  mad  confusion, 

They  make  bad  premises,  and  worse  conclusion  : 
But  where 's  a  palm  that  fortune's  hand  allows 

To  bless  the  victor's  honourable  brows  ? 
Come,  reader,  come ;   I  '11  light  thine  eye  the  way 

To  view  the  prize,  the  while  the  gamesters  play  : 
Close  by  the  jack,  behold,  j ill  Fortune  stands 

To  wave  the  game ;   see  in  her  partial  hands 
The  glorious  garland's  held  in  open  show, 

To  cheer  the  lads,  and  crown  the  conqu'ror's  brow. 
The  world's  the  jack  ;   the  gamesters  that  contend, 

Are  Cupid,  Mammon  :   that  judicious  fiend, 
That  gives  the  ground,  is  Satan  :   and  the  bowls 

Are  sinful  thoughts;  the  prize,  a  crown  for  fools. 
Who  breathes  that  bowls  not  ?  What  bold  tongue  can  say 

Without  a  blush,  he  has  not  bowl'd  to-day  ? 
It  is  the  trade  of  man,  and  ev'ry  sinner 

Has  play'd  his  rubbers  :   every  soul's  a  winner. 
The  vulgar  proverb 's  crost,  he  hardly  can 

Be  a  good  bowler  and  an  honest  man. 
Good  GOD  !  turn  thou  my  Brazil  thoughts  anew ; 
New-sole  my  bowls,  and  make  their  bias  true, 
I'll  cease  to  game,  till  fairer  ground  be  giv'n ; 
Nor  wish  to  win,  until  the  mark  be  Heav'n. 


S.  Bernard,  Lib.  de  Confid. 

O  you  sons  of  Adam,  you  covetous  generations,  what 
have  ye  to  do  with  earthly  riches,  which  are  neither  true,  nor 
yours  ;   gold   and   silver  are  real  earth,  red  and  white,  which 


Quarled  Emblems. 


45 


only  the  error  of  man  makes,  or  rather  reputes,  precious  :   In 
short,  it"  they  be  yours,  carry  them  with  you. 

S.  HlERON.  in   Ep. 

O  lust,  thou  infernal  fire,  whose  fuel  is  gluttony  ;  whose 
flame  is  pride  ;  whose  sparkles  are  wanton  words  ;  whose 
smoke  is  infamy  ;  whose  ashes  are  uncleanness  ;  whose  end 
is  hell. 

Eric  10. 
Mammon,  well  follow'd  ?   Cupid,  bravely  led  ; 
Both  touchers  ;   equal  fortune  makes  a  dead  ; 
No  reed  can  measure  where  the  conquest  lies  ; 
Take  my  advice  ;   compound  and  share  the  prize. 


Ve  walked  according  to  the  course  oj  this  worldy  according  to 

the  prince  of  the  air. — EriiES.  II.  2. 

O  WHITHER  will  this  mad-brain  world  at  last 

Be  driven  ?      Where  will  her  restless  wheels  arrive  ? 
Why  hurries  on  her  ill-match'd  pair  so  fast  \ 

O  whither  means  her  furious  groom  to  drive  ? 
What,  will  her  rambling  fits  be  never  past  ? 
For  ever  ranging  ?     Never  once  retrieve  ? 

Will  earth's  perpetual  progress  ne'er  expire  ? 
Her  team  continuing  in  their  fresh  career  : 
And  yet  they  never  rest,  and  yet  they  never  tire. 


Sol's  hot-mouth'd  steeds,  whose  nostrils  vomit  flame, 

And  brazen  lungs  belch  forth  quotidian  fire, 
Their  twelve  hours'  task  perform'd,  grow  stiff  and  lame, 

And  their  immortal  spirits  faint  and  tire  : 
At  th'  azure  mountain's  foot  their  labours  claim 
The  privilege  of  rest,  where  they  retire 

To  quench  their  burning  fetlocks,  and  go  steep 
Their  flaming  nostrils  in  the  western  deep, 
And  'fresh  their  tired  souls  with  strength-restoring  sleep. 


48  Quarks  Emblems. 

But  these  prodigious  hackneys,  basely  got 

'Twixt  men  and  devils,  made  for  race  or  flight, 
Can  drag  the  idle  world,  expecting  not 

The  bed  of  rest,  but  travel  with  delight ; 
Who  never  weighing  way  nor  weather,  trot 

Through  dust  and  dirt,  and  droil  both  night  and  day ; 
Thus  droil  these  fiends  incarnate,  whose  free  pains 
Are  fed  with  dropsies  and  veneral  blains. 
No  need  to  use  the  whip  ;  but  strength  to  rule  the  reins. 

Poor  captive  world  ;   How  has  thy  lightness  giv'n 

A  just  occasion  to  thy  foes  illusion  ! 
O,  how  art  thou  betray'd,  thus  fairly  driv'n 

In  seeming  triumph  to  thy  own  confusion  ! 
How  is  thy  empty  universe  bereav'n 

Of  all  true  joys,  by  one  false  joy's  delusion  ! 
So  I  have  seen  an  unblown  virgin  fed 
With  sugar'd  words  so  full,  that  she  is  led 
A  fair  attended  bride  to  a  false  bankrupt's  bed. 

Pull,  gracious  LORD  !     Let  not  thine  arm  forsake 

The  world,  impounded  in  her  own  devices  : 
Think  of  that  pleasure  that  thou  once  didst  take 

Amongst  the  lilies  and  sweet  beds  of  spices. 

Hale  strongly,  thou  whose  hand  has  pow'r  to  slack 

The  swift -foot  fury  of  ten  thousand  vices  : 

Let  not  thy  dust-devouring  dragon  boast, 

His  craft  has  won  what  Judah's  lion  lost ; 

Remember  what  is  crav'd  ;   recount  the  price  it  cost. 


Oiuu/ts  Emblems, 


49 


ISIDOR.  Lib.  i.  de  Summo  Bono. 
By  how  much  the  nearer  Satan  perceiveth  the  world  to 

an  end,  by  SO  much  the  more  fiercely  lie  troubleth  it  with 
persecution  ;  that,  knowing  himself  is  to  be  damned,  he  may 
get  company  in  his  damnation. 

Cyprian,  in  Ep. 
Broad  and   spacious   is   the   road   to   infernal   life  ;    there- 
are   enticements   and   death-bringing   pleasures.       There   the 
devil  flattereth,  that  he  may  deceive  ;   smileth,  that  he   may 
endamage  ;   allureth,  that  he  may  destroy. 

Epig.  i  i . 

Nay,  soft  and  fair,  good  world  ;   post  not  too  fast ; 
Thy  journey's  end  requires  not  half  this  haste. 
Unless  that  arm  thou  so  disdain'st,  reprives  thee, 
Alas  !    thou  needs  must  go,  the  devil  drives  thee. 


IV  may  suck,  but  not  be  satisfied  with  the  breast  of  Jie> 
consolation. — ISAIAH  LXVI.   1  i. 

What,  never  fill'd  ?      Be  thy  lips  screwed  so  fast 

To   th'   earth's  full   breast?      for   shame,  for  shame  un- 
seize thee  ; 
Thou  tak'st  a  surfeit  where  thou  should'st  but  taste, 
And  mak'st  too  much  not  half  enough  to  please  thee. 
Ah,  fool,  forbear  ;   thou  swallowest  at  one  breath 
Both  food  and  poison  down  !   thou  draw'st  both  milk  and 
death. 

The  ub'rous  breasts,  when  fairly  drawn,  repast 
The  thriving  infant  with  their  milky  flood, 

But  being  overstrain'd,  return  at  last 

Unwholesome  gulps  composed  of  wind  and  blood. 
A  mod'rate  use  does  both  repast  and  please  ; 

Who  strains  beyond  a  mean,  draws  in  and  gulps  disuse. 

But,  O  that  mean,  whose  good  the  least  abuse 
Makes  bad,  is  too,  too  hard  to  be  directed  : 

E    2 


52  Quarks  Emblems. 

Can  thorns  bring  grapes,  or  crabs  a  pleasing  juice  % 

There's  nothing  wholesome  where  the  whole's  infected. 
Unseize  thy  lips  :   earth's  milk's  a  ripened  core, 
That  drops  from  her  disease,  that  matters  from  her  sore. 

Think'st  thou  that  paunch,  that  burlies  out  thy  coat, 
Is  thriving  fat ;   or  flesh  that  seems  so  brawny  % 

Thy  paunch  is  dropsied  and  thy  cheeks  are  bloat ; 
Thy  lips  are  white,  and  thy  complexion  tawny ; 
Thy  skin's  a  bladder  blown  with  wat'ry  tumours  ; 

Thy  flesh  a  trembling  bog,  a  quagmire  full  of  humours. 

And  thou,  whose  thriveless  hands  are  ever  straining 
Earth's  fluent  breasts  into  an  empty  sieve, 

That  always  hast,  yet  always  art  complaining, 

And  whin'st  for  more  than  earth  has  pow'r  to  give  ; 
Whose  treasure  flows  and  flees  away  as  fast ; 

That  ever  hast,  and  hast,  yet  hast  not  what  thou  hast. 

Go  choose  a  substance,  fool,  that  will  remain 
Within  the  limits  of  thy  leaking  measure ; 

Or  else  go  seek  an  urn  that  will  retain 
The  liquid  body  of  thy  slipp'ry  treasure  ; 

Alas  !   how  poorly  are  thy  labours  crown'd  ! 

Thy  liquor's  never  sweet,  nor  yet  thy  vessel  sound. 

What  less  than  fool  is  man  to  prog  and  plot, 
And  lavish  out  the  cream  of  all  his  care, 

To* gain  poor  seeming  goods  ;   which,  being  got, 
Make  firm  possession  but  a  thoroughfare ; 

Or,  if  they  stay,  they  furrow  thoughts  the  deeper ; 

And,  being  kept  with  care,  they  lose  their  careful  keeper. 


Quarlcd  Emblems* 

S.  Greg.  Horn.  iii.  secund.  Parte  Ezech. 
If  we  give  more  to  the  flesh  than  we  ought,  \\c  nourish 
an  enemy  ;  if  we  give  not  to  her  necessity  what  we  ought, 
we  destroy  a  citizen  :  the  flesh  is  to  be  satisfied  so  far  as 
suffices  to  our  good  :  whosoever  alloweth  so  much  to  her  as 
to  make  her  proud,  knoweth  not  how  to  be  satisfied  :  to  be 
satisfied  is  a  great  art ;  lest,  by  the  satiety  of  the  flesh,  we 
break  forth  into  the  iniquity  of  her  folly. 

HUGO  de  Anima. 
The  heart  is   a  small   thing,  but  desireth  great  matters. 
It  is  not  sufficient  for  a  kite's  dinner,  yet  the  whole  world  is 
not  sufficient  for  it. 

Epig.   12. 
What  makes  thee,  fool,  so  fat  ?     Fool,  thee  so  bare  ? 
Ye  suck  the  self-same  milk,  the  self-same  air ; 
No  mean  betwixt  all  paunch,  and  skin  and  bone  ? 
The  mean's  a  virtue,  and  the  world  has  none. 


Men  love  darkness  rather  than  tight,  because  then  (feeds  are 
evil. — John  hi.  19. 

LORD,  when  we  leave  the  world  and  come  to  thee, 

How  dull,  how  slug  are  we  ! 
How  backward  !      How  prepost'rous  is  the  motion 

Of  our  ungain  devotion  ! 
Our  thoughts  are  millstones,  and  our  souls  are  lead, 

And  our  desires  are  dead  : 
Our  vows  are  fairly  promis'd,  faintly  paid  ; 

Or  broken,  or  not  made  : 
Our  better  work  (if  any  good)  attends 

Upon  our  private  ends  : 
In  whose  performance  one  poor  worldly  scoff 

Foils  us,  or  beats  us  off. 
If  thy  sharp  scourge  find  out  some  secret  fault, 

We  grumble  or  revolt ; 
And  if  thy  gentle  hand  forbear,  we  stray, 

Or  idly  lose  the  way. 
Is  the  road  fair,  we  loiter  ;   clogg'd  with  mire, 

We  stick,  or  else  retire  : 


5^  Quarks  Emblems. 

A  lamb  appears  a  lion  ;   and  we  fear, 

Each  bush  we  see's  a  bear. 
When  our  dull  souls  direct  our  thoughts  to  thee, 

As  slow  as  snails  are  we  : 
But  at  the  earth  we  dart  our  wing'd  desire ; 

We  burn,  we  burn  like  fire. 
Like  as  the  am'rous  needle  joys  to  bend 

To  her  magnetic  friend  : 
Or  as  the  greedy  lover's  eye-balls  fly 

At  his  fair  mistress'  eye  : 
So,  so  we  cling  to  earth ;  we  fly  and  puff, 

Yet  fly  not  fast  enough. 
If  pleasure  beckon  with  her  balmy  hand, 

Her  beck's  a  strong  command  : 
If  honour  calls  us  with  her  courtly  breath, 

An  hour's  delay  is  death  : 
If  profit's  golden  finger'd  charm  enveigles, 

We  clip  more  swift  than  eagles  : 
Let  Auster  weep,  or  blustring  Boreas  roar 

Till  eyes  or  lungs  be  sore  : 
Let  Neptune  swell,  until  his  dropsy  sides 

Burst  into  broken  tides  : 
Nor  threat'ning  rocks,  nor  winds,  nor  waves,  nor  fire, 

Can  curb  our  fierce  desire  : 
Nor  fire,  nor  rocks,  can  stop  our  furious  minds, 

Nor  waves,  nor  winds  : 
How  fast  and  fearless  do  our  footsteps  flee  ! 
The  lightfoot  roebuck's  not  so  swift  as  we. 

S.  August,  sup.  Psal.  lxiv. 
Two  several  lovers   built  two  several  cities ;  the  love  of 
God  buildeth  a  Jerusalem  ;   the  love  of  the  world  buildeth  a 


Quartet  Embh 


57 


Babylon  :   Let  every  one  inquire  of  himself  what  he  loveth, 
and  he  shall  resolve  himself,  ^{  whence  he  is  a  citizen. 

S.  AUGUST.  Lib.  iii.  Confess. 
All  things   are  driven   by  their  own   weight,  and  tend   to 
their  own   centre  :    my   weight   is   my   love  :    by  that   I   am 
driven  whithersoever  I  am  driven. 

Ibidem. 
LORD,  he  loveth  thee  the  less,  that  loveth  anything  with 
thee,  which  he  loveth  not  for  thee. 

Epig.  13. 
LORD,  scourge  my  ass,  if  she  should  make  no  haste, 
And  curb  my  stag,  if  he  should  fly  too  fast  : 
If  he  be  over  swift,  or  she  prove  idle, 
Let  love  impose  a  spur ;   fear,  him  a  bridle. 


Lighten  mine  eyes,  O  Lord,  lest  I  sleep  the  sleep  of  death. 
Psalm  xiii.  3. 

Will  't  ne'er  be  morning  ?     Will  that  promis'd  light 
Ne'er  break,  and  clear  those  clouds  of  night  ? 
Sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day, 
Whose  conqu'ring  ray 
.  May  chase  these  fogs ;   sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  da)-. 

How  long  !     How  long  shall  these  benighted  eyes 

Languish  in  shades,  like  feeble  flies 
Expecting  spring  ?     How  long  shall  darkness  soil 

The  face  of  earth,  and  thus  beguile 
Our  souls  of  sprightful  action  ?  When,  when  will  day 

Begin  to  dawn,  whose  new-born  ray 
May  gild  the  weathercocks  of  our  devotion, 

And  give  our  unsoul'd  souls  new  motion? 
Sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day  ; 
The  light  will  fray 
These  horrid  mists  ;   sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day. 


60  Quarles  Emblems. 

Let  those  have  night,  that  slily  love  t'  immure 

Their  cloister'd  crimes,  and  sin  secure  ; 
Let  those  have  night,  that  blush  to  let  men  know 

The  baseness  they  ne'er  blush  to  do ; 
Let  those  have  night  that  love  to  have  a  nap, 

And  loll  in  ignorance's  lap ; 
Let  those,  whose  eyes,  like  owls,  abhor  the  light, 

Let  those  have  night,  that  love  the  night : 
Sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day ; 
How  sad  delay 
Afflicts  dull  hopes  !  sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day. 

Alas  !  my  light  in  vain  expecting  eyes 

Can  find  no  objects,  but  what  rise 
From  this  poor  mortal  blaze,  a  dying  spark 

Of  Vulcan's  forge,  whose  flames  are  dark, 
A  dang'rous,  dull  blue-burning  light, 

As  melancholy  as  the  night : 
Here's  all  the  suns  that  glitter  in  the  sphere 

Of  earth  :  Ah  me  !    what  comfort's  here  ! 
Sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day ; 
Haste,  haste  away 
Heav'n's  loit'ring  lamp  ;    sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day. 

Blow,  Ignorance  :   O  thou,  whose  idle  knee 

Rocks  earth  into  a  lethargy, 
And  with  thy  sooty  fingers  has  benight 

The  world's  fair  cheeks,  blow,  blow  thy  spite  ; 
Since  thou  hast  puft  our  greater  taper  ;   do 

Puff  on,  and  out  the  lesser  too  : 
If  e'er  that  breath-exiled  flame  return, 

Thou  hast  not  blown,  as  it  will  burn  : 


Quartet  Emblems*  6  i 

Sweet  Phosphor;  bring  the  day  : 
Light  will  repay 
The  wrongs  of  night;  sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day. 

S.  AUGUST,  in  Job.  Ser.  xix. 
GOD  is  all  to   thee  :    if  thou  be   hungry,  he   is   bread  ;   if 
thirsty,  he  is  water  ;   if  darkness,  he  is  light ;   if  naked,  he  is 
a  robe  of  immortality. 

ALANUS  de  Conq.  Nat. 
GOD  is  a  light  that  is  never  darkened ;   an  unwearied  life 
that   cannot  die ;   a   fountain   always   flowing ;    a  garden   of 
life ;    a    seminary   of  wisdom  ;     a   radical    beginning   of   all 
goodness. 

Epig.  14. 
My  soul,  if  ignorance  puff  out  this  light, 
She'll  do  a  favour  that  intends  a  spite : 
It  seems  dark  abroad  ;   but  take  this  light  away, 
Thy  windows  will  discover  break  of  day. 


The  devil  is  come  unto  you,  having  great  iprath,  because  he 
knoweth  that  he  hath  but  a  short  time. —  REV.  XII.  12. 

LORD,  canst  thou  sec  and  suffer  ?      Is  thy  hand 

Still  bound  to  th'  peace?  Shall  earth's  black  monarch  take 
A  full  possession  of  thy  wasted  land  1 

O,  will  thy  slumb'ring  vengeance  never  wake 

Till  full  ag'd  law-resisting  custom  shake 
The  pillars  of  thy  right  by  false  command  ? 

Unlock  thy  clouds,  great  Thund'rer,  and  come  down  ; 

Behold  whose  temples  wear  thy  sacred  crown  ; 
Redress,  redress  our  wrongs  ;   revenge,  revenge  thy  own. 


See  how  the  bold  usurper  mounts  the  seat 

Of  royal  majesty  ;   how  overstrowing 
Perils  with  pleasure,  pointing  ev'ry  threat 

With  bugbear  death,  by  torments  over-awing 

Thy  frighted  subjects  ;   or  by  favours  drawing 
Their  tempted  hearts  to  his  unjust  retreat  ; 

LORD,  canst  thou  be  so  mild,  and  he  so  bold  ? 

Or  can  thy  flocks  be  thriving,  when  the  fold 
Is  govern'd  by  the  fox  ?     Lord,  canst  thou  sec  and  hold  ? 


6 4  Quarles  Emblems. 

That  swift-wing'd  advocate,  that  did  commence 
Our  welcome  suits  before  the  King  of  kings, 

That  sweet  ambassador,  that  hurries  hence 

What  airs  th'  harmonious  soul  or  sighs  or  sings, 
See  how  she  flutters  with  her  idle  wings  ; 

Her  wings  are  dipt,  and  eyes  put  out  by  sense ; 

Sense-conquering  faith  is  now  grown  blind  and  cold, 
And  basely  craven'd,  that  in  times  of  old 

Did  conquer  Heav'n  itself,  do  what  th'  Almighty  could. 

Behold,  how  double  fraud  does  scourge  and  tear 

Astraea's  wounded  sides,  plough'd  up,  and  rent 
With  knotted  cords,  whose  fury  has  no  ear ; 

See  how  she  stands  a  pris'ner  to  be  sent 

A  slave  into  eternal  banishment, 
I  know  not  whither,  O,  I  know  not  where  : 

Her  patent  must  be  cancel'd  in  disgrace  ; 

And  sweet-lip' d  fraud,  with  her  divided  face, 
Must  act  Astraea's  part,  must  take  Astraea's  place. 

Faith's  pinion's  dipt !   and  fair  Astraea  gone! 
Quick  seeing  Faith  now  blind,  and  Justice  see  : 

Has  Justice  now  found  wings  ?    And  has  Faith  none  ? 
What  do  we  here  ?     Who  would  not  wish  to  be 
Dissolv'd  from  earth,  and  with  Astraea  flee 

From  this  blind  dungeon  to  that  sun-bright  throne  ? 
LORD,  is  thy  sceptre  lost,  or  laid  aside  \ 
Is  hell  broke  loose,  and  all  her  fiends  unty'd  ? 
LORD,  rise,  and  rouse,  and  rule,  and  crush  their  furious 
pride. 


Quar/es*  Emblems. 

Peter  Rav.  in  Matth. 

The  devil  is  the  author  o\  evil,  the  fountain  of  wicked- 
ness, the  adversary  of  the  truth,  the  corrupter  of  the  world, 
man's  perpetual  enemy  ;  he  planteth  snares,  diggeth  ditches, 
spurreth  bodies,  he  goadeth  sends,  he  suggesteth  thoughts, 
belcheth  anger,  exposeth  virtues  to  hatred,  maketh  vices 
beloved,  soweth  error,  nourisheth  contention,  disturbeth 
peace,  and  scattereth  affliction. 

Macar. 
Let  us  suffer  with  those  that  suffer,  and  be  crucified  with 
those  that  are  crucified,  that   we  may  be  glorified  with  those 
that  are  glorified. 

Savanar. 
If  there  be  no   enemy,  no  fight ;   if  no  fight,  no  victory  ; 
if  no  victory,  no  crown. 

EPIG  15. 
My  soul,  sit  thou  a  patient  looker  on ; 
Judge  not  the  play  before  the  play  is  done  : 
Her  plot  has  many  changes  :   ev'ry  day 
Speaks  a  new  scene  :   the  last  act  crowns  the  play. 


You  that  walk  in  the  light  of  your  own  fire,  and  in  tin 
sparks  that  ye  have  kindled,  ye  shall  lie  down  in  sorrow. — 
Isaiah  l.  2. 

Do,  silly  Cupid,  snuff  and  trim 

Thy  false,  thy  feeble  light, 
And  make  her  self-consuming  flames  more  bright ; 
Methinks  she  burns  too  dim. 
Is  this  that  sprightly  fire, 
Whose  more  than  sacred  beams  inspire 
The  ravish'd  hearts  of  men,  and  so  inflame  desire  ? 


See,  boy,  how  thy  unthrifty  blaze 
Consumes,  how  fast  she  wanes ; 
She  spends  herself,  and  her,  whose  wealth  maintains 
Her  weak,  her  idle  rays. 
Cannot  thy  lustful  blast, 
Which  gave  it  lustre,  make  it  last  ? 
What  heart  can  long  be  pleas'd,  where  pleasure  spends 
so  fast? 


:-■■  4 


You  that  walk  in  the  light  of  your  own  fire,  and  in  the 
sparks  that  ye  have  kindled,  ye  shall  lie  down  in  sorrow. — 
Isaiah  l.  2. 

Do,  silly  Cupid,  snuff  and  trim 

Thy  false,  thy  feeble  light, 
And  make  her  self-consuming  flames  more  bright ; 
Methinks  she  burns  too  dim. 
Is  this  that  sprightly  fire, 
Whose  more  than  sacred  beams  inspire 
The  ravish'd  hearts  of  men,  and  so  inflame  desire  ? 


See,  boy,  how  thy  unthrifty  blaze 
Consumes,  how  fast  she  wanes ; 
She  spends  herself,  and  her,  whose  wealth  maintains 
Her  weak,  her  idle  rays. 
Cannot  thy  lustful  blast, 
Which  gave  it  lustre,  make  it  last  ? 
What  heart  can  long  be  pleas'd,  where  pleasure  spends 
so  fast  ? 


yo  Quarles  Emblems. 

Go,  wanton,  place  thy  pale-fac'd  light 

Where  never-breaking  day 
Intends  to  visit  mortals,  or  display 
Thy  sullen  shades  of  night  : 
Thy  torch  will  burn  more  clear 
In  night's  un-Titan'd  hemisphere ; 
Heaven's  scornful  flames  and  thine  can  never  co-appear. 

In  vain  thy  busy  hands  address 

Their  labour  to  display 
Thy  easy  blaze  within  the  verge  of  day ; 
The  greater  drowns  the  less  ! 
If  Heav'n's  bright  glory  shine, 
Thy  glimmering  sparks  must  needs  resign  ; 
Puff  out  Heav'n's  glory,  then,  or  Heaven  will  work  out  thine. 

Go,  Cupid's  rammish  pandar,  go, 
Whose  dull,  whose  low  desire 
Can  find  sufficient  warmth  from  nature's  fire, 
Spend  borrow'd  breath,  and  blow, 
Blow  wind  made  strong  with  spite  ; 
When  thou  hast  pufif'd  the  greater  light 
Thy  lesser  spark  may  shine,  and  warm  the  new-made  night. 

Deluded  mortals,  tell  me,  when 

Your  daring  breath  has  blown 
Heav'n's  taper  out,  and  you  have  spent  your  own, 
What  fire  shall  warm  you  then  ? 
Ah,  fools  !  perpetual  night 
Shall  haunt  your  souls  with  Stygian  fright, 
Where  they  shall  boil  in  flames,  but  flames  shall  bring 
no  light. 


Quarks*  Emblems.  7  i 

S.  AUGl  ST. 

The  sufficiency  of  my  merit  is  to  know  that  my  merit  is 
not  sufficient. 

S.  Greg.  Mor.  xxv. 
By   how  much   the   less   man  seeth   himself,  by  so  much 
the  less  he  displeaseth   himself;   and  by  how  much  the  more 
he  seeth  the  light  of  grace,  by  so  much  the   more  he  dis- 
daineth  the  light  of  nature. 

S.  Greg.  Mor. 
The  light   of  the   understanding,  humility   kindleth,  and 
pride  covereth. 

EPIG.  I. 
Thou  blow'st  Heav'n's  fire,  the  whilst  thou  go'st  about, 
Rebellious  fool,  in  vain,  to  blow  it  out ; 
Thy  folly  adds  confusion  to  thy  death  ; 
Heav'n's  fire  confounds,  wrhen  fann'd  with  folly's  breath. 


J^\ 


There  is  no   end  of  all  his  labour;    neither  is  his  <;r< 
satisfied  with  riches. — Eccles.  iv.  8. 


O  HOW  our  widen'd  arms  can  over-stretch 

Their  own  dimensions  !   How  our  hands  can  reach 

Beyond  their  distance  !   How  our  yielding  breast 

Can  shrink  to  be  more  full  and  full  possest 

Of  this  inferior  orb  !   How  earth  refin'd 

Can  cling  to  sordid  earth  !   How  kind  to  kind  ! 

We  gape,  we  grasp,  we  gripe,  add  store  to  store  ; 

Enough  requires  too  much  ;   too  much  craves  more. 

We  charge  our  souls  so  sore  beyond  their  stint, 

That  we  recoil  or  burst :  the  busy  mint 

Of  our  laborious  thoughts  is  ever  going, 

And  coining  new  desires ;   desires  not  knowing 

Where  next  to  pitch ;  but,  like  the  boundless  ocean, 

Gain,  and  gain  ground,  and  grow  more  strong  by  motion. 

The  pale-fac'd  lady  of  the  black-ey'd  night 

First  tips  her  horned  brows  with  easy  light, 

Whose  curious  train  of  spangled  nymphs  attire 

Her  next  night's  glory  with  increasing  fire ; 


74  Quarks*  Emblems. 

Each  ev'ning  adds  more  lustre,  and  adorns 

The  growing  beauty  of  her  grasping  horns  : 

She  sucks  and  draws  her  brother's  golden  store, 

Until  her  glutted  orb  can  suck  no  more. 

E'en  so  the  vulture  of  insatiate  minds 

Still  wants,  and  wanting  seeks,  and  seeking  finds 

New  fuel  to  increase  her  rav'nous  fire. 

The  grave  is  sooner  cloy'd  than  men's  desire  : 

We  cross  the  seas,  and  midst  her  waves  we  burn, 

Transporting  lives,  perchance  that  ne'er  return ; 

We  sack,  we  ransack  to  the  utmost  sands 

Of  native  kingdoms,  and  of  foreign  lands ; 

We  travel  sea  and  soil,  we  pry,  we  prowl, 

We  progress,  and  we  prog  from  pole  to  pole ; 

We  spend  our  mid-day  sweat,  our  midnight  oil, 

We  tire  the  night  in  thought,  the  day  in  toil  : 

We  make  art  servile,  and  the  trade  gentile 

(Yet  both  corrupted  with  ingenious  guile), 

To  compass  earth,  and  with  her  empty  store 

To  fill  our  arms,  and  grasp  one  handful  more ; 

Thus  seeking  rest,  our  labours  never  cease, 

But,  as  our  years,  our  hot  desires  increase  : 

Thus  we,  poor  little  worlds  !  with  blood  and  sweat, 

In  vain  attempt  to  comprehend  the  great ; 

Thus,  in  our  gain,  become  we  gainful  losers, 

And  what's  inclos'd,  incloses  the  inclosers. 

Now,  reader,  close  thy  book,  and  then  advise  ; 

Be  wisely  worldly,  be  not  worldly  wise ; 

Let  not  thy  nobler  thoughts  be  always  raking 

The  world's  base  dunghill;   vermin's  took  by  taking 

Take  heed  thou  trust  not  the  deceitful  lap 

Of  wanton  Dalilah  ;   the  world  s  a  trap. 


Quarles1  Emblems. 


Hi  GO  de  Anima. 

Tell  me,  where  be  those  now,  that  SO  lately  lovetl  and 
hugged  the  world  1  Nothing  remaineth  of  them  but  dust 
and  worms:  observe  what  those  men  were;  what  those  men 
are  :  They  w  ere  like  thee  ;  they  did  eat,  drink,  laugh,  and 
led  merry  days;  and  in  a  moment  slipt  into  hell.  Here, 
their  flesh  is  food  for  worms  ;  there  their  souls  are  fuel  for 
fire,  till  they  shall  be  rejoined  in  an  unhappy  fellowship,  and 
cast  into  eternal  torments  ;  where  they  that  were  once  com- 
panions in  sin,  can  be  hereafter  partners  in  punishment. 

Epig.  2. 
Gripe,  Cupid,  and  gripe  still,  unto  that  wind, 
That's  pent  before,  find  secret  vent  behind  : 
And  when  thou'st  done,  hark  here,  I  tell  thee  what, 
Before  I'll  trust  thy  armful,  I'll  trust  that. 


He  is  cast  into  a  net  by  his  own  feet,  and  walketh  upon  a 
snare. — JOB  XVIII.  8. 

What:   nets  and  quiver  too?  what  need  there  all 

These  sly  devices  to  betray  poor  men  ? 
Die  they  not  fast  enough  when  thousands  fall 

Before  thy  dart  ?  what  need  these  engines  then  ? 
Attend  they  not,  and  answer  to  thy  call, 

Like  nightly  coveys,  where  they  list  and  when  ? 

What  needs  a  stratagem  where  strength  can  sway  ? 
Or  what  needs  strength  compel  where  none  gainsay  ? 
Or  what  needs  stratagem  or  strength,  where  hearts  obey  ? 


Husband  thy  slights  :   it  is  but  vain  to  waste 

Honey  on  those  that  will  be  catch'd  with  gall ; 
Thou  canst  not,  ah  !    thou  canst  not  bid  so  fast 

As  men  obey  :  Thou  art  more  slow  to  call 
Than  they  to  come  ;   thou  canst  not  make  such  haste 
To  strike,  as  they,  being  struck,  make  haste  to  fall. 
Go  save  thy  nets  for  that  rebellious  heart 
That  scorns  thy  pow'r,  and  has  obtain'd  the  art 
T'  avoid  thy  flying  shaft,  to  quench  thy  fiery  dart. 


78  Quarles  Emblems. 

Lost  mortal !  how  is  thy  destruction  sure, 

Between  two  bawds,  and  both  without  remorse  ! 
The  one's  a  line,  the  other  is  a  lure ; 

This  to  entice  thy  soul ;   that  to  enforce  : 
Waylaid  by  both,  how  canst  thou  stand  secure  1 
That  draws ;  this  woos  thee  to  th'  eternal  curse. 
O  charming  tyrant,  how  thou  hast  befool'd 
And  slav'd  poor  man,  that  would  not,  if  he  could, 
Avoid  thy  line,  thy  lure ;   nay,  could  not,  if  he  would. 

Alas  !  thy  sweet  perfidious  voice  betrays 

His  wanton  ears  with  thy  Sirenian  baits  : 
Thou  wrap'st  his  eyes  in  mists,  then  boldly  lays 

Thy  Lethal  gins  before  their  crystal  gates  ; 
Thou  lock'st  up  ev'ry  sense  with  thy  false  keys, 
All  willing  pris'ners  to  thy  close  deceits  : 

His  ear  most  nimble,  where  it  deaf  should  be ; 
His  eye  most  blind,  where  most  it  ought  to  see ; 
And  when  his  heart's  most  bound,  then  thinks  himself 
most  free. 

Thou  grand  impostor !  how  hast  thou  obtain'd 

The  wardship  of  the  world  1     Are  all  men  turn'd 
Idiots  and  lunatics  ?     Are  all  retain'd 

Beneath  thy  servile  bands  %     Is  none  return'd 
To  his  forgotten  self?      Has  none  regain'd 
His  senses?     Are  their  senses  all  adjourn'd  ? 

What,  none  dismiss'd  thy  court  ?     Will  no  plump  fee 
Bribe  thy  false  fists  to  make  a  glad  decree, 
T'  unfool  whom  thou  hast  fool'd,  and  set  thy  pris'ners 
free. 


Quarlei  Emblems, 


79 


S.  Bern,  in  Scr. 
In  this  world  is  much  treachery,  little  truth  ;  here  all 
things  arc  traps;  here  everything  is  beset  with  snares;  here 
souls  are  endangered,  bodies  are  afflicted  ;    here  all  things 
are  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 

Epig.  3. 
Nay,  Cupid,  pitch  thy  trammel  where  thou  please, 
Thou  canst  not  fail  to  take  such  fish  as  these. 
Thy  thriving  sport  will  ne'er  be  spent  :   no  need 
To  fear,  when  ev'ry  cork's  a  world,  thou'lt  speed. 


Tlicy  shall  be  as  the  chaff  that  is  driven  with  a  whirl- 
wind out  of  the  floor,  and  as  the  smoke  out  of  the  chimney. — 
HOSEA  XIII.  3. 

Faint-hearted  Stoics,  you,  whose  marble  eyes 
Contemn  a  wrinkle,  and  whose  souls  despise 
To  follow  nature's  too  affected  fashion, 
Or  travel  in  the  regent  walk  of  passion  ; 
Whose  rigid  hearts  disdain  to  shrink  at  fears, 
Or  play  at  fast  and  loose,  with  smiles  and  tears  ; 
Come,  burst  your  spleens  with  laughter  to  behold 
A  new-found  vanity,  which  days  of  old 
Ne'er  knew  :  a  vanity  that  has  beset 
The  world,  and  made  more  slaves  than  Mahomet  : 
That  has  condemn'd  us  to  the  servile  yoke 
Of  slavery,  and  made  us  slaves  to  smoke. 
But  stay,  why  tax  I  thus  our  modern  times, 
For  new-born  follies,  and  for  new-born  crimes  ? 
Are  we  sole  guilty,  and  the  first  age  free  ? 
No,  they  were  smok'd  and  slav'd  as  well  as  we  : 
What's  sweet-lipt  honour's  blast,  but  smoke?     What's 
treasure, 

G 


82  Quarks  Emblems. 

But  very  smoke  ?  And  what  more  smoke  than  pleasure  ? 

Alas  !  they're  all  but  shadows,  fumes  and  blasts  ; 

That  vanishes,  this  fades,  the  other  wastes. 

The  restless  merchant,  he  that  loves  to  steep 

His  brains  in  wealth,  and  lays  his  soul  to  sleep 

In  bags  of  bullion,  sees  th'  immortal  crown, 

And  fain  would  mount,  but  ingots  keep  him  down  : 

He  brags  to-day,  perchance,  and  begs  to-morrow ; 

He  lent  but  now,  wants  credit  now  to  borrow  ; 

Blow,  winds,  the  treasure's  gone,  the  merchant's 

broke ; 
A  slave  to  silver's  but  a  slave  to  smoke. 
Behold  the  glory-vying  child  of  fame, 
That  from  deep  wounds  sucks  such  an  honour'd  name, 
That  thinks  no  purchase  worth  the  style  of  good, 
But  what  is  sold  for  sweat ;  and  seal'd  with  blood ; 
That  for  a  point,  a  blast  of  empty  breath, 
Undaunted  gazes  in  the  face  of  death ; 
Whose  dear-bought  bubble,  fill'd  with  vain  renown, 
Breaks  with  a  fillip,  or  a  gen'ral's  frown  : 
His  stroke-got  honour  staggers  with  a  stroke ; 
A  slave  to  honour  is  a  slave  to  smoke. 
And  that  fond  fool,  who  wastes  his  idle  days 
In  loose  delights,  and  sports  about  the  blaze 
Of  Cupid's  candle ;  he  that  daily  spies 
Twin  babies  in  his  mistress'  Gemini's, 
Whereto  his  sad  devotion  does  impart 
The  sweet  burnt-ofT'ring  of  a  bleeding  heart ; 
See,  how  his  wings  are  sing'd  in  Cyprian  fire, 
Whose  flames  consume  with  youth,  with  age  expire  : 
The  world's  a  bubble ;   all  the  pleasures  in  it, 
Like  morning  vapours,  vanish  in  a  minute  : 


Quarled  Emblems,  83 

The  vapours  vanish,  and  the  bubble's  broke  : 
A  slave  to  pleasure  is  a  slave  to  smoke. 
Now,  Stoic,  cease  thy  laughter,  and  repast 

Thy  pickled  cheeks  with  tears,  and  weep  as  fast. 

S.  HlERON. 
That  rich  man  is  great,  who  thinkcth  not  himself  great 
because  he  is   rich  ;   the  proud   man  (who  is   the  poor  man) 
braggeth  outwardly,  but  beggcth  inwardly  :   he  is  blown  up, 
but  not  full. 

Petr.  Rav. 
Vexation  and  anguish  accompany  riches  and  honour ; 
the  pomp  of  the  world,  and  the  favour  of  the  people,  are 
but  smoke,  and  a  blast  suddenly  vanishing ;  which  if  they 
commonly  please,  commonly  bring  repentance ;  and,  for  a 
minute  of  joy,  they  bring  an  age  of  sorrow. 

Epig.  4. 
Cupid,  thy  diet's  strange  :   it  dulls,  it  rouses, 
It  cools,  it  heats  ;   it  binds,  and  then  it  looses  : 
Dull-sprightly,  cold-hot  fool,  if  e'er  it  winds  thee 
Into  a  looseness  once,  take  heed,  it  binds  thee. 


r  atM  I 


Wilt  thou  set  thine  eyes  upon  that  which  is  not?  for 
riches  make  themselves  wings;  they  fly  away  as  an  eagle. — 
Prov.  XXIII.  5. 

FALSE  world,  thou  ly'st  :   thou  canst  not  lend 

The  least  delight  : 
Thy  favours  cannot  gain  a  friend, 

They  are  so  slight : 
Thy  morning  pleasures  make  an  end 

To  please  at  night : 
Poor  are  the  wants  that  thou  supply'st : 
And  yet  thou  vaunt'st,  and  yet  thou  vy'st 
With  Heaven  ;   fond  earth,  thou  boast'st ;   false 
world,  thou  ly'st. 


Thy  babbling  tongue  tells  golden  tales 
Of  endless  treasure : 

Thy  bounty  offers  easy  sales 
Of  lasting  pleasure  ; 

Thou  ask'st  the  conscience  what  she  ails, 
And  swear'st  to  ease  her  ; 


86  Quarles'  Emblems. 

There's  none  can  want  where  thou  supply'st, 

There's  none  can  give  where  thou  deny'st, 

Alas !  fond  world,  thou  boast'st ;  false  world,  thou  ly'st. 

What  well-advised  ear  regards 

What  earth  can  say? 
Thy  words  are  gold,  but  thy  rewards 

Are  painted  clay  : 
Thy  cunning  can  but  pack  the  cards, 

Thou  canst  not  play  : 
Thy  game  at  weakest,  still  thou  vy'st ; 
If  seen,  and  then  revy'd,  deny'st : 
Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem'st ;  false  world,  thou 

ly'st. 

Thy  tinsel  bosom  seems  a  mint 

Of  new-coin'd  treasure ; 
A  paradise,  that  has  no  stint, 

No  change,  no  measure  ; 
A  painted  cask,  but  nothing  in't, 

Nor  wealth,  nor  pleasure  : 
Vain  earth  !  that  falsely  thus  comply'st 
With  man ;  vain  man,  that  thou  rely'st 
On  earth  :  vain  man,  thou  doat'st ;  vain  earth,  thou 

ly'st. 

What  mean  dull  souls  in  this  high  measure 

To  haberdash 
In  earth's  base  wares,  whose  greatest  treasure 

Is  dross  and  trash ; 
The  height  of  whose  enchanting  pleasure 

Is  but  a  flash  ? 


Quarles*  Emblems.  87 

Arc  these  the  goods  that  thou  supply 'st 

Us  mortals  with  |      Arc  these  the  high'st  I 

Can  these  bring  cordial  peace?     False  world,  thou 
ly'st. 

Pet.  Bus. 

The  world  is  deceitful  ;  her  end  is  doubtful,  her  conclu- 
sion is  horrible  ;  her  judge  is  terrible  ;  and  her  punishment 
is  intolerable. 

S.  AUGUST.  Lib.  Confess. 
The  vain-glory  of  this  world  is  a  deceitful  sweetness,  a 
fruitless  labour,  a   perpetual   fear,  a  dangerous  honour  :   her 
beginning   is   without   Providence,  and   her  end   not  without 
repentance. 

Epig.  5. 
World,  thou'rt  a  traitor ;   thou  hast  stamp'd  thy  base 
And  chymic  metal  with  great  Caesar's  face, 
And  with  thy  bastard  bullion  thou  hast  barter'd 
For  wares  of  price  ;   how  justly  drawn  and  quarter'd. 


r? — 7^b0^\ 


Let  not  Jiim  that  is  deceived  trust  in  vanity ;  for  vanity 
shall  be  his  recontpence. —  Job  xv.  31. 

Believe  her  not,  her  glass  diffuses 
False  portraitures  :   thou  canst  espy 

No  true  reflection  ;   she  abuses 
Her  misinform'd  beholder's  eye  ; 

Her  crystal's  falsely  steel'd  ;   it  scatters 

Deceitful  beams ;   believe  her  not,  she  flatters. 

This  flaring  mirror  represents 

No  right  proportion,  view  or  feature  : 

Her  very  looks  are  compliments  ; 

They  make  thee  fairer,  goodlier,  greater; 
The  skilful  gloss  of  her  reflection 

But  paints  the  context  of  thy  coarse  complexion. 

Were  thy  dimensions  but  a  stride, 
Nay,  wert  thou  statur'd  but  a  span, 

Such  as  the  long-bill'd  troops  defy'd, 
A  very  fragment  of  a  man  ! 

She'll  make  thee,  Mimas,  which  you  will, 

The  Jove-slain  tyrant,  or  th'  Ionic  hill. 


90  Quarles'  Emblems. 

Had  surfeits,  or  th'  ungracious  star, 
Conspir'd  to  make  one  common  place 

Of  all  deformities  that  are 

Within  the  volume  of  thy  face, 

She'll  lend  the  favour  should  outmove 

The  Troy-bane  Helen,  or  the  queen  of  love. 

Were  thy  consum'd  estate  as  poor 

As  Laz'rus  or  afflicted  Job's  : 
She'll  change  thy  wants  to  seeming  store, 

And  turn  thy  rags  to  purple  robes ; 

She'll  make  thy  hide-bound  flank  appear 
As  plump  as  theirs  that  feast  it  all  the  year. 

Look  off,  let  not  thy  optics  be 

Abus'd  :  thou  see'st  not  what  thou  should'st 
Thyself 's  the  object  thou  should'st  see, 

But  'tis  thy  shadow  thou  behold'st  : 

And  shadows  thrive  the  more  in  stature, 
The  nearer  we  approach  the  light  of  nature. 

Where  Heav'n's  bright  beams  look  more  direct, 
The  shadow  shrinks  as  they  grow  stronger, 

But  when  they  glance  their  fair  aspect, 

The  bold-fac'd  shade  grows  larger,  longer  : 
And  when  their  lamp  begins  to  fall, 

Th'  increasing  shadows  lengthen  most  of  all. 

The  soul  that  seeks  the  noon  of  grace, 
Shrinks  in,  but  swells  if  grace  retreat. 

As  Heav'n  lifts  up,  or  veils  his  face, 
Our  self-esteems  grow  less  or  great. 
The  least  is  greatest,  and  who  shall 

Appear  the  greatest,  are  the  least  of  all. 


Quarles1  Emblems. 


91 


Hugo,  Lib.  de  Anima, 
In  vain  he  lifteth  up  the  eye  of  his  heart  to  behold  his 

GOD,  who  is  not  first  rightly  advised  to  behold  himself: 
First,  thou  must  see  the  visible  things  of  thyself,  before  thou 
canst  be  prepared  to  know  the  invisible  things  of  GOD  ;  for 
if  thou  canst  not  apprehend  the  things  within  thee,  thou 
canst  not  comprehend  the  things  above  thee  ;  the  best  look- 
ing-glass, wherein  to  sec  thy  GOD,  is  perfectly  to  sec  thyself. 

Epig.  6. 
Be  not  deceiv'd,  great  fool  :   there  is  no  loss 
In  being  small ;   great  bulks  but  swell  with  dross. 
Man  is  Heav'n's  masterpiece  :   if  it  appear 
More  great,  the  value's  less  :   if  less,  more  dear. 


|c     EMBLEM  VII.    << 


W>^ 


/  //(^v  .s\V  before  thee  life  and  death,  blessing  and 
cursing ;  therefore  choose  life,  that  thou  and  thy  seed  may 
live. — Deuteronomy  xxx.  19. 

The  world's  a  floor,  whose  swelling  heaps  retain 

The  mingled  wages  of  the  ploughman's  toil ; 
The  world's  a  heap,  whose  yet  unwinnow'd  grain 

Is  lodg'd  with  chaff  and  bury'd  in  her  soil ; 
All  things  are  mixt,  the  useful  with  the  vain  ; 
The  good  with  bad,  the  noble  with  the  vile ; 

The  world's  an  ark,  wherein  things  pure  and  gross 
Present  their  lossful  gain,  and  gainful  loss, 
Where  ev'ry  dram  of  gold  contains  a  pound  of  dross. 

This  furnish'd  ark  presents  the  greedy  view 

With  all  that  earth  can  give,  or  Heav'n  can  add  ; 
Here  lasting  joys  ;  here  pleasures  hourly  new, 

And  hourly  fading,  may  be  wish'd  and  had  : 
All  points  of  honour,  counterfeit  and  true, 

Salute  thy  soul,  and  wealth  both  good  and  bad  : 
Here  may'st  thou  open  wide  the  two-leav'd  door 
Of  all  thy  wishes,  to  receive  that  store, 
Which  being  empty  most,  does  overflow  the  more. 


94  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Come  then,  my  soul,  approach  this  royal  burse 

And  see  what  wares  our  great  exchange  retains ; 
Come,  come ;  here's  that  shall  make  a  firm  divorce 
Betwixt  thy  wants  and  thee,  if  want  complains  ; 
No  need  to  sit  in  council  with  thy  purse, 

Here's  nothing  good  shall  cost  more  price  than  pains: 
But,  O  my  soul,  take  heed,  if  thou  rely 
Upon  thy  faithless  optics,  thou  wilt  buy 
Too  blind  a  bargain  :    know,  fools  only  trade  by 
th'  eye. 

The  worldly  wisdom  of  the  foolish  man 
Is  like  a  sieve,  that  does  alone  retain 
The  grosser  substance  of  the  worthless  bran  : 

But  thou,  my  soul,  let  thy  brave  thoughts  disdain 
So  coarse  a  purchase  :   O  be  thou  a  fan 

To  purge  the  chaff,  and  keep  the  winnow'd  grain  : 
Make  clean  thy  thoughts,  and  dress  thy  mixt  desires 
Thou  art  Heav'n's  tasker,  and  thy  God  requires 
The  purest  of  thy  flow'r,  as  well  as  of  thy  fires. 

Let  grace  conduct  thee  to  the  paths  of  peace, 

And  wisdom  bless  the  soul's  unblemished  ways  ; 
No  matter,  then,  how  short  or  long's  the  lease, 

Whose  date  determines  thy  self-number'd  days  : 
No  need  to  care  for  wealth's  or  fame's  increase, 
Nor  Mars  his  palm,  nor  high  Apollo's  bays. 
LORD,  if  thy  gracious  bounty  please  to  fill 
The  floor  of  my  desires,  and  teach  me  skill 
To  dress  and  choose  the  corn,  take  those  the  chaff  that 
will. 


Quarles*  Emblems. 


S.  An, i  >r.  Lib.  i.  de  Doct  Christi. 

Temporal   things    more    ravish    in    the   expectation    than 

in    fruition  :    but   things    eternal,    more   in   the   fruition    than 
expectation. 

Ibidem. 
The  life  of  man  is  the  middle  between  angels  and  beasts: 
if  man  takes  pleasure   in   carnal  things,  he  is   compared  to 
beasts  :   but  if  he  delight  in  spiritual  things,  he  is  suited  with 
angels. 

Epic.  7. 
Art  thou  a  child  ?      Thou  wilt  not  then  be  fed 
But  like  a  child,  and  with  the  children's  bread  ; 
But  thou  art  fed  with  chaff,  or  corn  undrest  : 
My  soul,  thou  savour'st  too  much  of  the  beast. 


They   mind  earthly  things,   but  our  conversation   is   in 
heaven. —  PHILIPPIANS    ill.    19,   20. 


Pernio    BiWne  (Cupto. 

I  renus. 

What  means  this  peevish  babe?      Whish,  lullaby: 
What  ails  my  babe,  what  ails  my  babe  to  cry  ? 
Will  nothing  still  it  ?      Will  it  neither  be 
Pleas'd  with  the  nurse's  breast,  nor  mother's  knee  ? 
What  ails  my  bird  ?      What  moves  my  froward  boy 
To  make  such  whimpering  faces  ?      Peace,  my  joy  : 
Will  nothing  do  ?      Come,  come,  this  peevish  brat, 
Thus  cry  and  brawl,  and  cannot  tell  for  what  ? 
Come,  buss  and  friends  ;   my  lamb  ;   whish,  lullaby  ; 
What  ails  my  babe,  what  ails  my  babe  to  cry  ? 
Peace,  peace,  my  dear ;   alas  !   thy  early  years 
Had  never  faults  to  merit  half  these  tears  ! 
Come  smile  upon  me  :   let  thy  mother  spy 
Thy  father's  image  in  her  baby's  eye  : 
Husband  these  guilty  drops  against  the  rage 
Of  harder  fortunes,  and  the  gripes  of  age  ; 

H 


9  8  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Thine  eye's  not  ripe  for  tears  :   Whish,  lullaby; 
What  ails  my  babe,  my  sweet-fac'd  babe,  to  cry  ? 
Look,  look,  what's  here  !      A  dainty,  golden  thing  : 
See  how  the  dancing  bells  turn  round  and  ring, 
To  please  my  bantling  !     Here's  a  knack  will  breed 
An  hundred  kisses  :   here's  a  knack  indeed. 
So,  now  my  bird  is  white,  and  looks  as  fair 
As  Pelop's  shoulder,  or  a  milk-white  pair  : 
Here's  right  the  father's  smile;   when  Mars  beguil'd 
Sick  Venus  of  her  heart,  just  thus  she  smil'd. 

Divine  Cupid. 

Well  may  they  smile  alike  ;   thy  base-bred  boy 
And  his  base  sire  had  both  one  cause,  a  toy  : 
How  well  their  subjects  and  their  smiles  agree  ! 
Thy  Cupid  finds  a  toy,  and  Mars  found  thee  : 
False  queen  of  beauty,  queen  of  false  delights, 
Thy  knee  presents  an  emblem,  that  invites 
Man  to  himself,  whose  self-transported  heart 
(O'erwtielm'd  with  native  sorrows,  and  the  smart 
Of  purchas'd  griefs)  lies  whining  night  and  day, 
Not  knowing  why,  till  heavy-heel'd  delay, 
The  dull-brow'd  pander  of  despair,  lays  by 
His  leaden  buskins,  and  presents  his  eye 
With  antic  trifles,  which  the  indulgent  earth 
Makes  proper  objects  of  man's  childish  mirth. 
These  be  the  coin  that  pass,  the  sweets  that  please  ; 
There's  nothing  good,  there's  nothing  great  but  these; 
These  be  the  pipes,  that  base-born  minds  dance  after, 
And  turn  immod'rate  tears  to  lavish  laughter ; 
Whilst  heav'nly  raptures  pass  without  regard; 
Their  strings  are  harsh,  and  their  high  strains  unheard  : 


Quartet  Emblems* 

The  ploughman's  whistle,  or  the  trivial  flute, 
Find  more  respect  than  great  Apollo's  lute  : 
We'll  look  to  Heav'n,  and  trust  to  higher  joys; 

Let  swine  love  husks,  and  children  whine  for  toys. 

S.  Bern. 

That  is  the  true  and  chief  joy  which  is  not  conceived 
from  the  creature,  but  received  from  the  Creator,  which 
(being  once  possessed  thereof)  none  can  take  from  thee  : 
whereto  all  pleasure,  being  compared,  is  torment,  all  joy  is 
grief)  sweet  things  are  bitter,  all  glory  is  baseness,  and  all 
delectable  things  are  despicable. 


S.  Bern. 

Joy,  in  a  changeable  subject,  must  necessarily  change  as 
the  subject  changeth. 

EPIG.  8 
Peace,  childish  Cupid,  peace  ;   thy  fmger'd  eye 
But  cries  for  what,  in  time,  will  make  thee  cry. 
But  are  thy  peevish  wranglings  thus  appeas'd  \ 
Well  may'st  thou  cry,  that  art  so  poorly  pleas'd. 


H    2 


■  -        -,~^ 


^B 


\ 


Wr; 


►      EMRLKM    IX.      m| 


What  will  ye  do  in  the  day  of  your  visitation?  to  whom 

will  ye  flee  or  Jiclp?  and  where  will  ye  leave  your  glory  ? — 

Isaiah  x.  3. 

Is  this  that  jolly  god,  whose  Cyprian  bow 

Has  shot  so  many  flaming  darts, 
And  made  so  many  wounded  beauties  go 
Sadly  perplex'd  with  whimp'ring  hearts  ? 
Is  this  that  sov'reign  deity,  that  brings 
The  slavish  world  in  awe,  and  stings 
The  blund'ring  souls  of  swains,  and  stops  the  hearts 
of  kings  ? 


What  Circrean  charm,  what  Hecataean  spite 

Has  thus  abus'd  the  god  of  love  ? 
Great  Jove  was  vanquish'd  by  his  greater  might  ; 
(And  who  is  stronger  arm'd  than  Jove  ?) 
Or  has  our  lustful  god  perform'd  a  rape, 
And  (fearing  Argus'  eyes)  would  'scape 
The  view  of  jealous  earth,  in  this  prodigious  shape? 


102  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Where  be  those  rosy  cheeks,  that  lately  scorn'd 

The  malice  of  injurious  fates? 
Ah  !   where's  that  pearl  port-cullis  that  adorn'd 
Those  dainty  two-leav'd  ruby  gates  ? 

Where  be  those  killing  eyes  that  so  controll'd 
The  world,  and  locks  that  did  infold 
Like  knots  of  flaming  wire,  like  curls  of  burnish'd  gold  ? 

No,  no,  't  was  neither  Hecataean  spite, 
Nor  charm  below,  nor  pow'r  above ; 
'Twas  neither  Circe's  spell,  nor  Stygian  sprite, 
That  thus  transform'd  our  god  of  love  ; 

'Twas  owl-ey'd  lust  (more  potent  far  than  they) 
Whose  eyes  and  actions  hate  the  day  : 
Whom  all  the  world  observe,  whom  all  the  world  obey. 

See  how  the  latter  trumpet's  dreadful  blast 
Affrights  stout  Mars  his  trembling  son  ! 
See,  how  he  startles  !  how  he  stands  aghast, 
And  scrambles  from  his  melting  throne  ! 

Hark  how  the  direful  hand  of  vengeance  tears 
The  swelt'ring  clouds,  whilst  Heav'n  appears 
A  circle  fill'd  with  flame,  and  centred  with  his  fears. 

This  is  that  day,  whose  oft  report  hath  worn 

Neglected  tongues  of  prophets  bare  ; 
The  faithless  subject  of  the  worldling's  scorn, 
The  sum  of  men  and  angels'  pray'r  : 

This,  this  the  day,  whose  all-discerning  light 
Ransacks  the  secret  dens  of  night, 
And  severs  good  from  bad  ;   true  joys  from  false 
delight. 


Quarles1  Emblems. 

You  grov'ling  worldlings,  you,  whose  wisdom  trades 

Where  light  ne'er  shol  his  golden  ray, 
That  hide  your  actions  in  Cimmerian  shades. 
How  will  your  eyes  endure  this  day? 

Hills  will  be  deaf,  and  mountains  will  not  hear; 
There  be  n^  caves,  no  corners  there 
To  shade  your  souls  from  fire,  to  shield  your  hearts 
from  fear. 

Hugo. 

O  the  extreme  loathsomeness  of  fleshly  lust,  which  not 
only  effeminates  the  mind,  but  enervates  the  body  ;  Which 
not  only  distaineth  the  soul,  but  disguiseth  the  person  !  It 
is  ushered  with  fury  and  wantonness  ;  it  is  accompanied 
with  filthiness  and  uncleanness  ;  and  it  is  followed  with  grief 
and  repentance. 

Epig.  9. 
What,  sweet-fae'd  Cupid,  has  thy  bastard-treasure, 
Thy  boasted  honours,  and  thy  bold-fac'd  pleasure 
Perplex'd  thee  now  ?      I  told  thee  long  ago, 
To  what  they'd  bring  thee,  fool,  to  wit,  to  woe. 


She  is  empty,  and  void,  and  waste. — NAHUM   II.   10. 

She's  empty  :  hark,  she  sounds;  there's  nothing  there 

But  noise  to  fill  thy  ear  ; 
Thy  vain  inquiry  can  at  length  but  find 

A  blast  of  murm'ring  wind  : 
It  is  a  cask,  that  seems  as  full  as  fair, 

But  merely  tunn'd  with  air  : 
Fond  youth,  go  build  thy  hopes  on  better  grounds  : 

The  soul  that  vainly  founds 
Her  joys  upon  this  world,  but  feeds  on  empty  sounds. 


She's  empty  :   hark,  she  sounds  :   there's  nothing  in't ; 

The  spark-engend'ring  flint 
Shall  sooner  melt,  and  hardest  raunce  shall  first 

Dissolve,  and  quench  thy  thirst, 
E'er  this  false  world  shall  still  thy  stormy  breast 

With  smooth-fae'd  calms  of  rest. 
Thou  may'st  as  well  expect  meridian  light 

From  shades  of  black-mouth'd  night, 
As  in  this  empty  world  to  find  a  full  delight. 


106  Quarks  Emblems. 

She's  empty  :   hark,  she  sounds  :   'tis  void  and  vast ; 

What  if  some  flatt'ring  blast 
Of  flatuous  honour  should  perchance  be  there, 

And  whisper  in  thine  ear  ? 
It  is  but  wind,  and  blows  but  where  it  list, 

And  vanisheth  like  mist. 
Poor  honour  earth  can  give !      What  gen'rous  mind 

Would  be  so  base  to  bind 
Her  heav'n-bred  soul  a  slave  to  serve  a  blast  of  wind  ? 

She's  empty  :   hark,  she  sounds  :   'tis  but  a  ball 

For  fools  to  play  withal  : 
The  painted  film  but  of  a  stronger  bubble, 

That's  lined  with  silken  trouble  : 
It  is  a  world,  whose  work  and  recreation 

Is  vanity  and  vexation  ; 
A  hag,  repair'd  with  vice-complexion'd  paint, 

A  quest-house  of  complaint ; 
It  is  a  saint,  a  fiend  ;   a  worse  fiend,  when  most 
a  saint. 

She's  empty  :   hark,  she  sounds  :   'tis  vain  and  void  ; 

What's  here  to  be  enjoy'd 
But  grief  and  sickness,  and  large  bills  of  sorrow, 

Drawn  now,  and  cross'd  to-morrow  ? 
Or  what  are  men,  but  puffs  of  dying  breath, 

Reviv'd  with  living  death  ? 
Fond  lad,  O  build  thy  hopes  on  surer  grounds 

Than  what  dull  flesh  propounds  ; 
Trust  not  this  hollow  world  ;   she's  empty :   hark,  she 
sounds. 


QuarleJ  Emblem: 


S.  Chrys.  in  Ep.  ad  I  leb 
Contemn  riches,  and  thou  shalt  be  rich  :  contemn  glory, 

and  thou  shalt  be  glorious;  contemn  injuries,  and  thou  shalt 
be  a  conqueror;  contemn  rest,  and  thou  shalt  gain  rest; 
contemn  earth,  and  thou  shalt  find  Heaven. 

HUGO,  Tab.  de  Vanit  Mundi. 

The  world  is  a  vanity  which  afTordeth  neither  beauty  to 
the  amorous,  nor  reward  to  the  laborious,  nor  encouragement 
to  the  industrious. 

EPIG.  io. 
This  house  is  to  be  let  for  life  or  years  ; 
Her  rent  is  sorrow,  and  her  income  tears  : 
Cupid,  't  has  long  stood  void  ;   her  bills  make  known, 
She  must  be  dearly  let,  or  let  alone. 


Narrow  is  the  way  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  tJiere  be 
that  find  it. — Matt,  vil  i  4. 


PREPOST'ROUS  fool,  thou  troul'st  amiss  ; 
Thou  err'st ;   that's  not  the  way,  'tis  this  : 
Thy  hopes,  instructed  by  thine  eye, 
Make  thee  appear  more  near  than  I  ; 
My  floor  is  not  so  flat,  so  fine, 
And  has  more  obvious  rubs  than  thine  : 
'Tis  true  ;   my  way  is  hard  and  strait, 
And  leads  me  through  a  thorny  gate  : 
Whose  rankling  pricks  are  sharp  and  fell  ; 
The  common  way  to  Heav'n  's  by  hell. 
'Tis  true  ;  thy  path  is  short  and  fair, 
And  free  from  rubs  :   Ah  !   fool,  beware, 
The  safest  road's  not  always  ev'n  : 
The  way  to  hell's  a  seeming  heav'n  : 
Think'st  thou  the  crown  of  glory's  had 
With  idle  case,  fond  Cyprian  lad  ? 


I  I  o  Qucuics1  Emblems. 

Think'st  thou,  that  mirth,  and  vain  delights, 

High  feed,  and  shadow-short'ning  nights, 

Soft  knees,  full  bags,  and  beds  of  down, 

Are  proper  prologues  to  a  crown  ? 

Or  canst  thou  hope  to  come  and  view, 

Like  prosp'rous  Caesar,  and  subdue  \ 

The  bond-slave  usurer  will  trudge, 

In  spite  of  gouts  will  turn  a  drudge, 

And  serve  his  soul-condemning  purse, 

T'  increase  it  with  the  widow's  curse  : 

And  shall  the  crown  of  glory  stand 

Not  worth  the  waving  of  an  hand  ? 

The  fleshly  wanton,  to  obtain 

His  minute-lust,  will  count  it  gain 

To  lose  his  freedom,  his  estate, 

Upon  so  dear,  so  sweet  a  rate  ; 

Shall  pleasures  thus  be  prized,  and  must 

Heav'n's  palm  be  cheaper  than  a  lust  ? 

The  true-bred  spark,  to  hoise  his  name 

Upon  the  waxen  wings  of  fame, 

Will  fight  undaunted  in  a  flood 

That's  rais'd  with  brackish  drops  and  blood. 

And  shall  the  promis'd  crown  of  life 

Be  thought  a  toy,  not  worth  a  strife  ? 

An  easy  good  brings  easy  gains  ; 

But  things  of  price  are  bought  with  pains. 

The  pleasing  way  is  not  the  right  : 

He  that  would  conquer  Heav'n  must  fight. 

S.  HlERON.  in  Ep. 
No  labour  is  hard,  no  time  is  long,  wherein  the  glory  of 
eternity  is  the  mark  we  level  at. 


Quarks*  Emblems, 


i  i 


S.  ( ikl.t ..   I  .il>.  viii.   Mor. 

The  valour  of  a  just  man  is,  to  conquer  the  flesh,  to 
contradict  his  own  will,  to  quench  the  delights  of  this  pre- 
sent life,  to  endure  and  love  the  miseries  of  this  world  for 
the  reward  of  a  better,  to  contemn  the  (latteries  of  prosperity, 
and  inwardly  to  overcome  the  fears  of  adversity. 

Epig.  1 1. 

0  Cupid,  if  thy  smoother  way  were  right, 

1  should  mistrust  this  crown  were  counterfeit  : 
The  way's  not  easy  where  the  prize  is  great  : 
I  hope  no  virtues,  where  I  smell  no  sweat. 


4  '**¥& 


God  forbid  that  1  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross. — 
Galatians  vi.  14. 

Can  nothing  settle  my  uncertain  breast, 

And  fix  my  rambling  love  ? 
Can  my  affections  find  out  nothing  best, 

But  still  and  still  remove  ? 
Has  earth  no  mercy  ?     Will  no  ark  of  rest 

Receive  my  restless  dove  \ 
Is  there  no  good,  than  which  there's  nothing  higher, 

To  bless  my  full  desire 
With  joys  that  never  change ;  with  joys  that  ne'er 


expire 


I  wanted  wealth  ;   and,  at  my  dear  request, 

Earth  lent  a  quick  supply  ; 
I  wanted  mirth,  to  charm  my  sullen  breast  ; 

And  who  more  brisk  than  I  ? 
I  wanted  fame,  to  glorify  the  rest  ; 

My  fame  flew  eagle-high  ; 
My  joy  not  fully  ripe,  but  all  decay'd, 

Wealth  vanish'd  like  a  shade  ; 
My  mirth  began  to  flag,  my  fame  began  to  fade. 


i  i  4  QuarleJ  Emblems. 

The  world's  an  ocean,  hurried  to  and  fro 

With  ev'ry  blast  of  passion  : 
Her  lustful  streams,  when  either  ebb  or  flow, 

Are  tides  of  man's  vexation  : 
They  alter  daily,  and  they  daily  grow 

The  worse  by  alteration  : 
The  earth  's  a  cask  full  tunn'd,  yet  wanting  measure 

Her  precious  wine  is  pleasure  ; 
Her  yeast  is  honour's  puff;   her  lees  are  worldly 
treasure. 

My  trust  is  in  the  cross  :   let  beauty  flag 

Her  loose,  her  wanton  sail ; 
Let  count'nance-gilding  honour  cease  to  brag 

In  courtly  terms,  and  vail ; 
Let  ditch-bred  wealth  henceforth  forget  to  wag 

Her  base,  though  golden,  tail ; 
False  beauty's  conquest  is  but  real  loss, 

And  wealth  but  golden  dross ; 
Best  honour 's  but  a  blast  :    my  trust  is  in  the 
cross. 

My  trust  is  in  the  cross ;  there  lies  my  rest : 

My  fast,  my  soul  delight : 
Let  cold-mouth'd  Boreas,  or  the  hot-mouth'd  East, 

Blow  till  they  burst  with  spite ; 
Let  earth  and  hell  conspire  their  worst,  their  best, 

And  join  their  twisted  might; 
Let  show'rs  of  thunderbolts  dart  down  and  wound  me, 

And  troops  of  fiends  surround  me, 
All  this  may  well  confront  :   all  this  shall  ne'er 
confound  me. 


Quarles*  Emblems, 


i  i 


S.  Aid  ST. 

Christ's  cross  is  the  christ-cross  of  all  our  happiness;  it 
delivers  US  from  all  blindness  <>f  error,  and  enriches  our 
darkness  with  light;  it  restoreth  the  troubled  soul  to  rest; 
it  bringeth  strangers  to  God's  acquaintance ;  it  maketh 
remote  foreigners  near  neighbours;  it  cutteth  off  discord ; 
concludeth  a  league  of  everlasting  peace  ;  and  is  the  bounte- 
ous author  of  all  good. 

S.  BERN,  in  Scr.  in  Resur. 
We  find   glory  in  the   cross;   to  us  that   are   saved,  it   is 
the  power  of  GOD,  and  the  fulness  of  all  virtues. 

Epig.   12. 
I  follow'd  rest;   rest  fled  and  soon  forsook  me: 
I  ran  from  grief;   grief  ran  and  overtook  me. 
What  shall  I  do,  lest  I  be  too  much  tost  ? 
On  worldly  crosses,  LORD,  let  me  be  crost. 


I     2 


Yjf= 


As  a  dog  retumeth  to  his  vomit,  so  a  fool  returneth  to  Ins 
folly. — PROV.  XXVI.   II. 


O,  I  am  wounded  !   and  my  wounds  do  smart 

Beyond  my  patience  or  great  Chiron's  art ; 

I  yield,  I  yield  the  day,  the  palm  is  thine ; 

Thy  bow's  more  true,  thy  shaft's  more  fierce  than  mine, 

Hold,  hold,  O  hold  thy  conqu'ring  hand.      What  need 

To  send  more  darts  \  the  first  has  done  the  deed  : 

Oft  have  we  struggled,  when  our  equal  arms 

Shot  equal  shafts,  inflicted  equal  harms  ; 

But  this  exceeds,  and  with  her  flaming  head, 

Twy-fork'd  with  death,  has  struck  my  conscience  dead. 

But  must  I  die?  ah  me  !   If  that  were  all, 

Then,  then  I'd  stroke  my  bleeding  wounds,  and  call 

This  dart  a  cordial,  and  with  joy  endure 

These  harsh  ingredients,  where  my  grief's  my  cure. 

But  something  whispers  in  my  dying  ear, 

There  is  an  after-day;   which  day  I  fear. 


Qrtarles  Emblems. 

The  slender  debt  to  nature's  quickly  paid, 
Discharg'd,  perchance,  with  greater  ease  than  made  ; 
But  if  that  pale-fac'd  sergeant  make  arrest, 
Ten  thousand  actions  would  (whereof  the  least 
Is  more  than  all  this  lower  world  can  bail) 
Be  enter'd,  and  condemn  me  to  the  jail 
Of  Stygian  darkness,  bound  in  red-hot  chains, 
And  grip'd  with  tortures  worse  than  Tityan  pains. 
Farewell,  my  vain,  farewell,  my  loose  delights  ; 
Farewell,  my  rambling  days,  my  rev'ling  nights  ; 
'Twas  you  betray 'd  me  first,  and  when  ye  found 
My  soul  at  Vantage,  gave  my  soul  the  wound  : 
Farewell,  my  bullion  gods,  whose  sov'reign  looks 
So  often  catch'd  me  with  their  golden  hooks  ; 
Go,  seek  another  slave  ;   ye  must  all  go  ; 
I  cannot  serve  my  God  and  bullion  too. 
Farewell,  false  honour ;   you,  whose  airy  wings 
Did  mount  my  soul  above  the  thrones  of  kings  ; 
Then  flatter'd  me,  took  pet,  and  in  disdain, 
Nipp'd  my  green  buds ;   then  kick'd  me  down  again 
Farewell,  my  bow  ;   farewell,  my  Cyprian  quiver  ; 
Farewell,  dear  world,  farewell,  dear  world,  for  ever. 
O,  but  this  most  delicious  world,  how  sweet 
Her  pleasures  relish  !   ah  !   how  jump  they  meet 
The  grasping  soul,  and  with  their  sprightly  fire 
Revive  and  raise,  and  rouse  the  wrapt  desire  ! 
For  ever  ?   O,  to  part  so  long  !   what,  never 
Meet  more  ?   another  year,  and  then  for  ever : 
To  quick  resolves  do  resolution  wrong ; 
What,  part  so  soon,  to  be  divorc'd  so  long? 
Things  to  be  done,  are  long  to  be  debated ; 
Heav'n's  not  decay'd.      Repentance  is  not  dated. 


Quaries1  Emblems. 


i  19 


S.  A.UGI  ST.  Lib.  de  ITtiL  agea  Poen. 
Go  up,  my  soul,  into  the  tribunal  of  thy   consci< 
there  set   thy  guilty  soul   before  thyself:    hide  not    thyself 
behind  thyself,  lest  God  bring  thee  forth  before  thyself. 

S.  August,  in  Soliloq. 
In  vain  is  that  washing,  where  the  next  sin  defileth  :  he 

hath  ill  repented,  whose   sins   are   repeated  :   that  stomach  is 
the  worse  for  vomiting,  that  licketh  up  his  vomit. 

ANSEL.M. 
God  hath  promised  pardon  to  him  that  repenteth,  but  he 
hath  not  promised  repentance  to  him  that  sinneth. 

ElTG.  13. 
Brain -wounded  Cupid,  had  this  hasty  dart, 
As  it  has  prick'd  thy  fancy,  piere'd  thy  heart, 
'T  hath  been  thy  friend  :   O  how  hath  it  deceiv'd  thee  ! 
For  had  this  dart  but  kill'd,  this  dart  had  sav'd  thee. 


A  just  man  falleth  seven  times,  ami  riseth  up  again;  but  the 
wicked  shall  fall  into  mischief. — Prov.  xxiv.  16. 


TlS  but  a  foil  at  best,  and  that's  the  most 

Your  skill  can  boast  : 
My  slipp'ry  footing  fail'd  me  ;   and  you  tript, 

Just  as  I  slipt : 
My  wanton  weakness  did  herself  betray 

With  too  much  play: 
I  was  too  bold;   he  never  yet  stood  sure, 

That  stands  secure : 
Who  ever  trusted  to  his  native  strength, 

But  fell  at  length  ? 
The  title's  craz'd,  the  tenure  is  not  good, 
That  claims  by  th'  evidence  of  flesh  and  blood. 

Boast  not  thy  skill;  the  righteous  man  falls  oft, 

Yet  falls  but  soft : 
There  may  be  dirt  to  mire  him,  but  no  stones 

To  crush  his  bones : 
What  if  he  staggers?   nay,  but  case  he  be 

Foil'd  on  his  knee? 


122  Quarks  Emblems. 

That  very  knee  will  bend  to  Heav'n,  and  woo 

For  mercy  too. 
The  true-bred  gamester  ups  afresh,  and  then 

Falls  to  't  again  ; 
Whereas  the  leaden-hearted  coward  lies, 
And  yields  his  conquer'd  life,  or  craven'd  dies. 

Boast  not  thy  conquest;   thou  that  ev'ry  hour 

Fall'st  ten  times  low'r; 
Nay,  hast  not  pow'r  to  rise,  if  not,  in  case, 

To  fall  more  base : 
Thou  wallow'st  where  I  slip:   and  thou  dost  tumble 

Where  I  but  stumble: 
Thou  glory'st  in  thy  slav'ries'  dirty  badges, 

And  fall'st  for  wages: 
Sour  grief  and  sad  repentance  scours  and  clears 

My  stains  with  tears  : 
Thy  falling  keeps  thy  falling  still  in  ure  ; 
But  when  I  slip,  I  stand  the  more  secure. 

Lord,  what  a  nothing  is  this  little  span, 

We  call  a  MAN! 
What  fenny  trash  maintains  the  smoth'ring  fires 

Of  his  desires! 
How  slight  and  short  are  his  resolves  at  longest : 

How  weak  at  strongest! 
Oh,  if  a  sinner,  held  by  that  fast  hand, 

Can  hardly  stand, 
Good  God!  in  what  a  desp'rate  case  are  they, 

That  have  no  stay! 
Man's  state  implies  a  necessary  curse; 
When  not  himself,  he's  mad;   when  most  himself, 
he's  worse. 


QuarleJ  Emblems,  i  2  | 

S.  Ami;ki >s.  in  Ser.  ad  Vincula 
Peter  stood   more  firmly  after  he  had   lamented  his  fall 
than  before  he  fell;  Insomuch  that  he  found  more  grace  than 
he  lost  grace 

S.  CHYRS.  in  Kp.  ad  ITcliod.  Monach. 
It  is  no  such  heinous  matter  to  fall  afflicted,  as,  being 
down,  to  lie  dejected.  It  is  no  danger  for  a  soldier  to  receive 
a  wound  in  battle,  but,  after  the  wound  received,  through 
despair  o\  recovery,  to  refuse  a  remedy;  for  we  often  see 
wounded  champions  wear  the  palm  at  last  ;  and,  after  fight, 
crowned  with  victory. 

Epig.  14. 
Triumph  not,  Cupid,  his  mischance  doth  show 
Thy  trade;   doth  once,  what  thou  dost  always  do: 
Brag  not  too  soon;   has  thy  prevailing  hand 
Foil'd  him?   ah  fool,  th'  hast  taught  him  how  to  stand. 


rx  \ '    1 


I  will  put  my  fear  in  their  hearts,  that  they  shall  not  depart 
from  me, — Jer.  xxxir.  40. 

So,  now  the  soul's  sublim'd :   her  sour  desires 
Are  recalcin'd  in  Heav'n's  well  temper'd  fires: 
The  heart  restor'd  and  purg'd  from  drossy  nature, 
Now  finds  the  freedom  of  a  new-born  creature: 
It  lives  another  life,  it  breathes  new  breath; 
It  neither  fears  nor  feels  the  sting  of  death : 
Like  as  the  idle  vagrant  (having  none) 
That  boldly  'dopts  each  house  he  views,  his  own ; 
Makes  ev'ry  purse  his  chequer;   and,  at  pleasure, 
Walks  forth,  and  taxes  all  the  world,  like  Caesar; 
At  length,  by  virtue  of  a  just  command. 
His  sides  are  lent  to  a  severer  hand ; 
Whereon  his  pass,  not  fully  understood, 
Is  taxed  in  a  manuscript  of  blood; 
Thus  past  from  town  to  town;   until  he  come 
A  sore  repentant  to  his  native  home : 
E'en  so  the  rambling  heart,  that  idly  roves 
From  crimes  to  sin,  and  uncontroll'd  removes 
From  lust  to  lust,  when  wanton  flesh  invites 
From  old  worn  pleasures  to  new  choice  delights: 


26  Quarks  Emblems. 

At  length  corrected  by  the  filial  rod 

Of  his  offended,  but  his  gracious  God, 

And  lash'd  from  sins  to  sighs;   and  by  degrees, 

From  sighs  to  vows,  from  vows  to  bended  knees; 

From  bended  knees  to  a  true  pensive  breast; 

From  thence  to  torments  not  by  tongue  exprest; 

Returns;   and  (from  his  sinful  self  exil'd) 

Finds  a  glad  father,  he  a  welcome  child  : 

O  then  it  lives ;   O  then  it  lives  involv'd 

In  secret  raptures;   pants  to  be  dissolv'd : 

The  royal  offspring  of  a  second  birth, 

Sets  ope'  to  Heav'n,  and  shuts  the  door  to  earth: 

If  love-sick  Jove  commanded  clouds  should  hap 

To  rain  such  show'rs  as  quicken'd  Danae's  lap: 

Or  dogs  (far  kinder  than  their  purple  master), 

Should  lick  his  sores,  he  laughs,  nor  weeps  the  faster. 

If  earth  (Heav'n's  rival)  dart  her  idle  ray; 

To  Heav'n,  'tis  wax,  and  to  the  world,  'tis  clay: 

If  earth  present  delights,  it  scorns  to  draw, 

But,  like  the  jet  unrubb'd,  disdains  that  straw. 

No  hope  deceives  it,  and  no  doubt  divides  it; 

No  grief  disturbs  it,  and  no  error  guides  it; 

No  good  contemns  it,  and  no  virtue  blames  it: 

No  gilt  condemns  it,  and  no  folly  shames  it; 

No  sloth  besots  it,  and  no  lust  inthrals  it; 

No  scorn  afflicts  it,  and  no  passion  galls  it : 

It  is  a  casket  of  immortal  life; 

An  ark  of  peace ;  the  lists  of  sacred  strife ; 

A  purer  piece  of  endless  transitory; 

A  shrine  of  grace,  a  little  theme  of  glory : 

A  heav'n-born  offspring  of  a  new-born  birth ; 

An  earthly  heav'n;   an  ounce  of  heav'nly  earth. 


Quarles*  Emblems. 

s.  August,  de  Spir.  et  Anima. 
0  happy  heart,  where   piety  affecteth,  where   humility 
subjecteth,   where    repentance    correcteth,   where    obedience 
directeth,  where  perseverance  perfecteth,  where  power  pro- 

tecteth,  where  devotion  projecteth,  where  charity  connecteth. 

S.    GRE<  r. 

Which  way  soever  the  heart  turneth  itself  (if  carefully), 

it  shall  commonly  observe,  that  in  those  very  things  we  lose 
GOD,  in   those  very  things  we  shall   find   GOD:   it  shall   find 

the  heat  of  his  power  in  consideration  of  those  things,  in  the 
love  of  which  things  he  was  most  cold;  and  by  what  things 
it  fell  perverted,  by  those  things  it  is  raised  converted. 

Epic  15. 
My  heart!   but  wherefore  do  I  call  thee  so? 
I  have  renoune'd  my  int'rest  long  ago  : 
When  thou  wert  false  and  fleshly,  I  was  thine ; 
Mine  wert  thou  never,  till  thou  wert  not  mine. 


BOOK    THE    THIRD 


Lord,  all  my  desire  is  before  thee:  and  my  groaning  is  not 
hid  from  thee. — PSALM  XXXVIII.  9. 

All  you  whose  better  thoughts  are  newly  born, 

And  (rebaptiz'd  with  holy  fire)  can  scorn 

The  world's  base  trash,  whose  necks  disdain  to  bear 

Th'  imperious  yoke  of  Satan ;   whose  chaste  ear 

No  wanton  songs  of  Sirens  can  surprise 

With  false  delight  ;   whose  more  than  eagle-eyes 

Can  viewr  the  glorious  flames  of  gold,  and  gaze 

On  glitt'ring  beams  of  honour,  and  not  daze  ; 

Whose  souls  can  spurn  at  pleasure,  and  deny 

The  loose  suggestions  of  the  flesh,  draw  nigh  : 


And  you,  whose  am'rous,  whose  select  desires 
Would  feel  the  warmth  of  those  transcendent  fires, 
Which  (like  the  rising  sun)  put  out  the  light 
Of  Venus'  star,  and  turn  her  day  to  night  ; 

K     2 


132  Quarles  Emblems. 

You  that  would  love,  and  have  your  passions  crown'd 
With  greater  happiness  than  can  be  found 
In  your  own  wishes ;  you  that  would  affect 
Where  neither  scorn,  nor  guile,  nor  disrespect 
Shall  wound  your  tortur'd  souls ;  that  would  enjoy, 
Where  neither  want  can  pinch,  nor  fulness  cloy, 
Nor  double  doubt  afflicts,  nor  baser  fear 
Unflames  your  courage  in  pursuit,  draw  near, 
Shake  hands  with  earth,  and  let  your  soul  respect 
Her  joys  no  farther,  than  her  joys  reflect 
Upon  her  Maker's  glory  ;   if  thou  swim 
In  wealth,  see  him  in  all ;  see  all  in  him  : 
Sink'st  thou  in  want,  and  is  thy  small  cruse  spent  ? 
See  him  in  want :   enjoy  him  in  content : 
Conceiv'st  him  lodg'd  in  cross,  or  lost  in  pain  ? 
In  pray'r  and  patience  find  him  out  again  : 
Make  Heav'n  thy  mistress,  let  no  change  remove 
Thy  royal  heart,  be  fond,  be  sick  of  love : 
What,  if  he  stop  his  ear,  or  knit  his  brow  ? 
At  length  he'll  be  as  fond,  as  sick  as  thou  : 
Dart  up  thy  soul  in  groans  :  thy  secret  groan 
Shall  pierce  his  ear.  shall  pierce  his  ear  alone  : 
Dart  up  thy  soul  in  vows  :   thy  sacred  vow 
Shall  find  him  out,  where  Heav'n  alone  shall  know  : 
Dart  up  thy  soul  in  sighs  :   thy  whisp'ring  sigh 
Shall  rouse  his  ears,  and  fear  no  list'ner  nigh  : 
Send  up  thy  groans,  thy  sighs,  thy  closet-vow ; 
There's  none,  there's  none  shall  know  but  Heav'n  and 
thou. 


The  Entertainment. 


Groans  fresh'd  \\  i t li  vows,  and  vows  made  salt  with  tears; 
Unscale  his  eyes,  and  scale  his  conquered  ears: 
Shoot  up  the  bosom  shafts  o\  thy  desire, 
Feathered  with  faith,  and  double-fork 'd  with  fire ; 
And  they  will  hit:  fear  not,  where  Heav'n  bids  come, 
Heav'n's  never  deaf,  but  when  man's  heart  is  dunil>. 


oVaS^MJ 


My  soul kath  desired  thee  in  the  night — Isaiah  xxvi.  9. 


Good  God  !  what  horrid  darkness  doth  surround 

My  groping  soul  !   how  are  my  senses  bound 

In  utter  shades,  and  muffled  from  the  light, 

Lurk  in  the  bosom  of  eternal  night  ! 

The  bold-fac'd  lamp  of  Heav'n  can  set  and  rise  ; 

And  with  his  morning  glory  fill  the  eyes 

Of  gazing  mortals  ;   his  victorious  ray 

Can  chase  the  shadows,  and  restore  the  day  : 

Night's  bashful  empress,  though  she  often  wane. 

As  oft  repeats  her  darkness,  primes  again  ; 

And,  with  her  circling  horns,  doth  re-embrace 

Her  brother's  wealth,  and  orbs  her  silver  face. 

But  ah  !   my  sun,  deep  swallow'd  in  his  fall, 

Is  set,  and  cannot  shine,  nor  rise  at  all  : 

My  bankrupt  wain  can  beg  nor  borrow  light ; 

Alas  !   my  darkness  is  perpetual  night. 

Falls  have  their  risings,  wanings  have  their  primes, 

And  desp'rate  sorrows  wait  their  better  times  : 

Ebbs  have  their  floods,  and  autumns  have  their  springs 

All  states  have  changes  hurried  with  the  swings 


i  3  6  Quarics  Emblems. 

Of  chance  and  time,  still  riding  to  and  fro : 

Terrestrial  bodies,  and  celestial  too. 

How  often  have  I  vainly  grop'd  about, 

With  lengthen'd  arms  to  find  a  passage  out, 

That  I  might  catch  those  beams  mine  eye  desires, 

And  bathe  my  soul  in  those  celestial  fires  ! 

Like  as  the  haggard,  cloister'd  in  her  mew, 

To  scour  her  downy  robes,  and  to  renew 

Her  broken  flags,  preparing  t' overlook 

The  tim'rous  mallard  at  the  sliding  brook, 

Jets  oft  from  perch  to  perch ;   from  stock  to  ground  ; 

From  ground  to  window ;  thus  surveying  round 

Her  dove-befeather'd  prison,  till  at  length 

(Calling  her  noble  birth  to  mind,  and  strength 

Whereto  her  wing  was  born)  her  ragged  beak 

Nips  off  her  jangling  jesses,  strives  to  break 

Her  jingling  fetters,  and  begins  to  bate 

At  ev'ry  glimpse,  and  darts  at  ev'ry  grate  : 

E'en  so,  my  weary  soul,  that  long  has  been 

An  inmate  in  this  tenement  of  sin, 

Lock'd  up  by  cloud -brow'd  error,  which  invites 

My  cloister'd  thoughts  to  feed  on  black  delights, 

Now  scorns  her  shadows,  and  begins  to  dart 

Her  wing'd  desires  at  thee,  that  only  art 

The  sun  she  seeks,  whose  rising  beams  can  fright 

These  dusky  clouds  that  make  so  dark  a  night : 

Shine  forth,  great  glory,  shine ;   that  I  may  see 

Both  how  to  loathe  myself,  and  honour  thee ; 

But  if  my  weakness  force  thee  to  deny 

Thy  flames,  yet  lend  the  twilight  of  thine  eye  : 

If  I  must  want  those  beams  I  wish,  yet  grant 

That  I,  at  least,  may  wish  those  beams  I  want. 


QuarleJ  Emblems, 


'  \7 


S.  Ai  Gl  S  i .  Soliloq,  ( lap.  xxxiii. 
Therewas  a  great  dark  cloud  of  vanity  before  mine 

so  that  I  could  not  sec  the  sun  of  justice  and  the  light  <>f 

truth  :  I  being  the  sun  of  darkness,  was  involved  in  darkness  ; 
I  loved   my  darkness,  because  I  knew  not  thy  light  :   I  was 

blind,  and  loved  my  blindness,  and  did  walk  from  darkness  to 
darkness  :  but,  LORD,  thou  art  my  God,  who  hast  led  me  from 
darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death  ;  hast  called  me  into  this 
glorious  light,  and  behold,  I  see. 

Epic.  i. 
My  soul,  cheer  up  ;   what  if  the  night  be  long? 
Heav'n  finds  an  ear  when  sinners  find  a  tongue ; 
Thy  tears  are  morning  show'rs  :    Heav'n  bids  me  say, 
When  Peter's  cock  begins  to  crow,  'tis  day. 


0  Lord,  thou  knowest  my  foolishness,  and  my  sins  arc  not  hid 
from  thee. — Psalm  lxix.  5. 


See'st  thou  this  fulsome  idiot  :   in  what  measure 

He  seems  transported  with  the  antic  pleasure 

Of  childish  baubles  ?     Canst  thou  but  admire 

The  empty  fulness  of  his  vain  desire  ? 

Canst  thou  conceive  such  poor  delights  as  these 

Can  fill  th'  insatiate  soul  of  man,  or  please 

The  fond  aspect  of  his  deluded  eye  ? 

Reader,  such  very  fools  art  thou  and  I  : 

False  puffs  of  honour  ;  the  deceitful  streams 

Of  wealth  ;   the  idle,  vain,  and  empty  dreams 

Of  pleasure,  are  our  traffic,  and  ensnare 

Our  souls,  the  threefold  subject  of  our  care ; 

We  toil  for  trash,  we  barter  solid  joys 

For  airy  trifles,  sell  our  Heav'n  for  toys  : 

We  catch  at  barley-grains,  whilst  pearls  stand  by 

Despis'd  ;   such  very  fools  art  thou  and  I. 

Aim'st  thou  at  honour  ?  does  not  the  idiot  shake  it 

In  his  left  hand  ?   fond  man,  step  forth  and  take  it  : 


140  Quarlcs  Emblems. 

Or  would'st  thou  wealth?  see  now  the  fool  presents  thee 

With  a  full  basket,  if  such  wealth  contents  thee  : 

Would'st  thou  take  pleasure  ?  if  the  fool  unstride 

His  prancing  stallion,  thou  may'st  up,  and  ride  : 

Fond  man,  such  is  the  pleasure,  wealth,  and  honour, 

The  earth  affords  such  fools  as  doat  upon  her; 

Such  is  the  game  whereat  earth's  idiots  fly ; 

Such  idiots,  ah  !   such  fools  art  thou  and  I  : 

Had  rebel  man's  fool-hardiness  extended 

No  farther  than  himself,  and  there  had  ended, 

It  had  been  just ;   but  thus  enrag'd  to  fly 

Upon  th'  eternal  eyes  of  Majesty, 

And  drag  the  Son  of  Glory  from  the  breast 

Of  his  indulgent  Father  ;   to  arrest 

His  great  and  sacred  person  ;   in  disgrace 

To  spit  and  spawl  upon  his  sun-bright  face ; 

To  taunt  him  with  base  terms,  and,  being  bound, 

To  scourge  his  soft,  his  trembling  sides ;  to  wound 

His  head  with  thorns,  his  heart  with  human  fears ; 

His  hands  with  nails,  and  his  pale  flank  with  spears  ; 

And  then  to  paddle  in  the  purer  stream 

Of  his  spilt  blood,  is  more  than  most  extreme  : 

Great  Builder  of  Mankind,  canst  thou  propound 

All  this  to  thy  bright  eyes,  and  not  confound 

Thy  handy  work  ?      Oh  !  canst  thou  choose  but  see, 

That  mad'st  the  eye  ?  can  aught  be  hid  from  thee  ? 

Thou  seest  our  persons,  LORD,  and  not  our  guilt ; 

Thou  seest  not  wThat  thou  may'st,  but  what  thou  wilt : 

The  hand  that  form'd  us  is  enforc'd  to  be 

A  screen  set  up  betwixt  thy  work  and  thee : 

Look,  look  upon  that  hand,  and  thou  shalt  spy 

An  open  wound,  a  thoroughfare  for  thine  eye ; 


Quarled  Emblems.  \  .j  I 

Or  if  that  wound  be  clos'dj  that  passage  !><• 
I  Kny'il  between  thy  gracious  eye  ami  me, 
Vet  view  the  scar;  that  scar  will  countermand 
Thy  wrath  :  ()  read  my  fortune  in  thy  hand. 

S.  CHRYS.  Horn,  iv.  in  Joan. 
Fools  seem  to  abound  in  wealth,  when  they  want  all 
things  ;  they  seem  to  enjoy  happiness,  when  indeed  they  are- 
only  most  miserable  ;  neither  do  they  understand  that  they 
are  deluded  by  their  fancy,  till  they  be  delivered  from  their 
folly. 

S.  Greg,  in  Mor. 
By  so   much   the   more  are  we   inwardly  foolish,  by  how 
much  we  strive  to  seem  outwardly  wise. 

EPIG.  2. 
Rebellious  fool,  what  has  thy  folly  done  ? 
Controll'd  thy  God,  and  crucify'd  his  Son  ? 
How  sweetly  has  the  LORD  of  life  deceiv'd  thee  ! 
Thou  shedd'st  his  blood,  and  that  shed  blood  has  sav'd 
thee. 


Have   me  row  Lord,  upon  me,  for  I  am   weak;   0  Lord,   heal 
me,  for  my  bones  arc  vexed. — Psalm  vi.  2. 


Soul    Scsus, 

Soul.  Ah  !  Son  of  David,  help.     Jesus.  What  sinful 
cry 
Implores  the  Son  of  David.      Soul.   It  is  I. 

Jesus.  Who  art  thou  ?      Soul.  Oh  !  a  deeply  wounded 
breast 
That's  heavy  laden,  and  would  fain  have  rest. 

Jesus.    I  have  no  scraps,  and  dogs  must  not  be  fed, 
Like  household  children,  with  the  children's  bread. 

Soul.   True,  Lord  ;  yet  tolerate  a  hungry  whelp 
To  lick  their  crumbs  :   O  Son  of  David,  help. 

Jesus.   Poor  soul,  what  ail'st  thou  ?     Soul.   O,  I  burn, 
I  fry, 
I  cannot  rest,  I  know  not  where  to  fly, 
To  find  some  ease ;   I  turn  my  blubber'd  face 
From  man  to  man  ;   I  roll  from  place  to  place 
T'  avoid  my  tortures,  to  obtain  relief, 
But  still  am  dogg'd  and  haunted  with  my  grief : 


144  Quarles  Emblems. 

My  midnight  torments  call  the  sluggish  light, 
And,  when  the  morning's  come,  they  woo  the  night. 

Jesus.   Surcease  thy  tears,  and  speak  thy  free  desires. 

Soul.   Quench,  quench  my  flames,  and  'suage  those 
scorching  fires. 

Jesus.   Canst  thou  believe  my  hand  can  cure  thy 
grief? 

Soul.    LORD,  I  believe ;   LORD,  help  my  unbelief. 

Jesus.   Hold  forth  thine  arm,  and  let  my  fingers  try 
Thy  pulse  ;   where,  chiefly,  doth  thy  torment  lie  ? 

Soul.   From  head  to  foot ;   it  reigns  in  ev'ry  part, 
But  plays  the  self-law'd  tyrant  in  my  heart. 

Jesus.   Canst  thou  digest,  canst  relish  wholesome 
food? 
How  stands  thy  taste  ?      Soul.  To  nothing  that  is  good  : 
All  sinful  trash,  and  earth's  unsav'ry  stuff 
I  can  digest,  and  relish  well  enough. 

Jesus.   Is  not  thy  blood  as  cold  as  hot,  by  turns  ? 

Soul.   Cold  to  what's  good  ;   to  what  is  bad  it  burns. 

Jesus.   How  old's  thy  grief?      Soul.   I  took  it  at  the 
fall 
With  eating  fruit.      Jesus.   'T  is  epidemical : 
Thy  blood's  infected,  and  the  infection  sprung 
From  a  bad  liver  :   't  is  a  fever  strong 
And  full  of  death,  unless  with  present  speed 
A  vein  be  opened  :   thou  must  die,  or  bleed. 

Soul.   O,  I  am  faint  and  spent  :   that  lance  that  shall 
Let  forth  my  blood,  lets  forth  my  life  withal ; 
My  soul  wants  cordials,  and  has  greater  need 
Of  blood,  than  (being  spent  so  far)  to  bleed  : 
I  faint  already  :  if  I  bleed,  I  die. 

Jesus.   'Tis  either  you  must  bleed,  sick  soul,  or  I  : 


tries*  Emblems. 

My  blood's  a  cordial.      He  that  sucks  my  veins, 
Shall  cleanse  his  own,  and  conquer  greater  pains 

Than  these:    cheer  up  J    this  precious  blood  of  mine 
Shall  cure  thy  grief  j  my  heart  shall  bleed  for  thine 
Believe,  and  view  me  with  a  faithful  e\ 
Tin-  soul  shall  neither  languish,  bleed,  nor  die. 

S.  AUGUST.  Lib.  x.  Confess. 
LORD,  be  merciful  unto  me  !   ah  me  !   behold,  I  hide  not 
my  wounds  :  thou   art  a  physician,  and  I  am  sick  ;   thou  art 
merciful,  and  I  am  miserable. 

S.  Greg,  in  Pastoral. 
O  wisdom,  with  how  sweet  an  art  doth  thy  wine  and  oil 
restore  health  to  my  healthless  soul  !      How  powerfully  mer- 
ciful,  how  mercifully  powerful   art  thou  !    powerful   for   me, 
merciful  to  me ! 

Epig.  3. 
Canst  thou  be  sick,  and  such  a  doctor  by  I 
Thou  canst  not  live  unless  thy  doctor  die  : 
Strange  kind  of  grief,  that  finds  no  med'eine  good 
To  'suage  her  pains,  but  the  physician's  blood  ! 


Look  upon  my  affliction  and  my  pain,  and  forgive  all  my 
sins. — Psalm  xxv.  18. 


BOTH  work  and  strokes?  both  lash  and  labour  too? 

What  more  could  Edom,  or  proud  Ashur  do  ? 

Stripes  after  stripes ;   and  blows  succeeding  blows  ! 

LORD,  has  thy  scourge  no  mercy,  and  my  woes 

No  end  ?  my  pains  no  ease  ?  no  intermission  ? 

Is  this  the  state,  is  this  the  sad  condition 

Of  those  that  trust  thee  ?  will  thy  goodness  please 

T'  allow  no  other  favours  ?  none  but  these  ? 

Will  not  the  rhet'ric  of  my  torments  move  ? 

Are  these  the  symptoms,  these  the  signs  of  love  ? 

Is't  not  enough,  enough  that  I  fulfil 

The  toilsome  task  of  thy  laborious  will  ? 

May  not  this  labour  expiate,  and  purge 

My  sin,  without  th'  addition  of  a  scourge  ? 

Look  on  my  cloudy  brow,  how  fast  it  rains 

Sad  show'rs  of  sweaty  the  fruits  of  fruitless  pains  : 

Behold  these  ridges,  see  what  purple  furrows 

Thy  plough  has  made  ;   O  think  upon  those  sorrows 

L    2 


148  Quarks*  Emblems. 

That  once  were  thine ;   O  wilt  thou  not  be  woo'd 
To  mercy,  by  the  charms  of  sweat  and  blood  ? 
Canst  thou  forget  that  drowsy  mount,  wherein 
Thy  dull  disciples  slept  ?  was  not  my  sin 
There  punish'd  in  thy  soul  ?  did  not  this  brow 
Then  sweat  in  thine  %  were  not  these  drops  enow  ? 
Remember  Golgotha,  where  that  spring-tide 
O'erflow'd  thy  sov'reign,  sacramental  side  : 
There  was  no  sin,  there  was  no  guilt  in  thee, 
That  caus'd  those  pains  ;  thou  sweat'st,  thou  bledd'st 

for  me. 
Was  there  not  blood  enough,  when  one  small  drop 
Had  pow'r  to  ransom  thousand  worlds,  and  stop 
The  mouth  of  justice?      LORD,  I  bled  before 
In  thy  deep  wounds  ;   can  justice  challenge  more? 
Or  dost  thou  vainly  labour  to  hedge  in 
Thy  losses  from  my  sides  ?  my  blood  is  thin, 
And  thy  free  bounty  scorns  such  easy  thrift ; 
No,  no,  thy  blood  came  not  as  loan,  but  gift. 
But  must  I  ever  grind,  and  must  I  earn 
Nothing  but  stripes  ?      O  wilt  thou  disaltern 
The  rest  thou  gav'st  ?  hast  thou  perus'd  the  curse 
Thou  laid'st  on  Adam's  fall,  and  made  it  worse? 
Canst  thou  repent  of  mercy  ?     Heav'n  thought  good 
Lost  man  should  feed  in  sweat ;   not  work  in  blood  : 
Why  dost  thou  wound  th'  already  wounded  breast  ? 
Ah  me !   my  life  is  but  a  pain  at  best : 
I  am  but  dying  dust :  my  day  's  a  span  ; 
What  pleasure  tak'st  thou  in  the  blood  of  man  ? 
Spare,  spare  thy  scourge,  and  be  not  so  austere  : 
Send  fewer  strokes,  or  lend  more  strength  to  bear. 


( hdirli-s  Emblems. 


S,  Bern.  1  Eom,  Ixxxi.  in  Cant. 

Miserable  man  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  reproach 
this  shameful  bondage?  I  am  a  miserable  man,  but  a 
free  man  ;  free,  because  a  man  ;  miserable,  because  a  servant  : 
in  regard  of  my  bondage,  miserable  ;  in  regard  of  my  will, 
inexcusable  :  for  my  will,  that  was  free,  beslaved  itself  to  sin, 
by  assenting  to  sin ;  for  he  that  committcth  sin,  is  the 
in. 

Epig.  4. 

Tax  not  thy  God:   thine  own  defaults  did  urge 
This  twofold  punishment  :   the  mill,  the  scourge. 
Thy  sin's  the  author  of  thy  self-tormenting  : 
Thou  grind'st  for  sinning ;   scourg'd  for  not  repenting. 


' 


Remember,  I  beseech  thee,  that  thou  Jiast  made  me  as  the  clay ; 
and  wilt  thou  bring  vie  into  dnst  again  ? — JOB  X.  9. 


Thus  from  the  bosom  of  the  new-made  earth 
Poor  man  was  delv'd,  and  had  his  unborn  birth ; 
The  same  the  stuff,  the  self-same  hand  doth  trim 
The  plant  that  fades,  the  beast  that  dies,  and  him. 
One  was  their  sire,  one  was  their  common  mother, 
Plants  are  his  sisters,  and  the  beast  his  brother, 
The  elder  too  ;  beasts  drew  the  self-same  breath, 
Wax  old  alike,  and  die  the  self-same  death  : 
Plants  grow  as  he,  with  fairer  robes  array'd  ; 
Alike  they  flourish,  and  alike  they  fade  : 
The  beast  in  sense  exceeds  him,  and,  in  growth, 
The  three-ag'd  oak  doth  thrice  exceed  them  both. 
Why  look'st  thou  then  so  big,  thou  little  span 
Of  earth  ;   what  art  thou  more  in  being  man  ? 
I,  but  my  great  Creator  did  inspire 
My  chosen  earth,  with  the  diviner  fire 
Of  reason  ;  gave  me  judgment  and  a  will ; 
That,  to  know  good  ;   this,  to  choose  good  from  ill 


I  5  2  Quarles  Emblems. 

He  puts  the  reins  of  pow'r  in  my  free  hand, 
A  jurisdiction  over  sea  and  land  ; 
He  gave  me  art  to  lengthen  out  my  span 
Of  life,  and  made  me  all,  in  being  man  : 
I,  but  thy  passion  has  committed  treason 
Against  the  sacred  person  of  thy  reason  : 
Thy  judgment  is  corrupt,  perverse  thy  will ; 
That  knows  no  good,  and  this  makes  choice  of  ill 
The  greater  height  sends  down  the  deeper  fall ; 
And  good  declin'd,  turns  bad,  turns  worst  of  all. 
Say,  then,  proud  inch  of  living  earth,  what  can 
Thy  greatness  claim  the  more  in  being  man  ? 
O  !  but  my  soul  transcends  the  pitch  of  nature, 
Borne  up  by  th'  image  of  her  high  Creator ; 
Outbraves  the  life  of  reason,  and  bears  down 
Her  waxen  wings,  kicks  off  her  brazen  crown. 
My  heart's  a  living  temple  t'  entertain 
The  King  of  Glory  and  his  glorious  train  : 
How  can  I  mend  my  title  then  ?  where  can 
Ambition  find  a  higher  style  than  man  ? 
Ah  !  but  that  image  is  defac'd  and  soil'd ; 
Her  temples  raz'd,  her  altars  all  denTd  ; 
Her  vessels  are  polluted  and  distain'd 
With  loathed  lust,  her  ornaments  profan'd ; 
Her  oil-forsaken  lamps  and  hollow'd  tapers 
Put  out ;  her  incense  breathes  unsav'ry  vapours  : 
Why  swell'st  thou  then  so  big,  thou  little  span 
Of  earth  \  what  art  thou  more  in  being  man  \ 
Eternal  Potter,  whose  blest  hands  did  lay 
My  coarse  foundation  from  a  sod  of  clay, 
Thou  know'st  my  slender  vessel's  apt  to  leak; 
Thou  know'st  my  brittle  temper's  prone  to  break 


nblems. 

Aiv  my  bones  brazil,  <>r  my  flesh  of  oak  i 

0,  mend  what  thou  hast  made,  what  I  have  broke: 

Look,  look  with  gentle  eves,  and  in  thy  day 

Of  vengeance.  Lord,  remember  I  am  clay. 

S.  August.  Soliloq.  xxxii. 
Shall  T  ask,  who  made  me  ?  It  was  thou  that  madest 
me,  without  whom  nothing  was  made  :  thou  art  my  Maker, 
and  I  thy  work.  I  thank  thee,  my  LORD  GOD,  by  whom  I 
live,  and  by  whom  all  things  subsist,  because  thou  madest 
me :  I  thank  thee,  O  my  Potter,  because  thy  hands  have 
made  me,  because  thy  hands  have  formed  me. 

Epig.  5. 
Why  swell'st  thou,  man,  pufifd  up  with  fame  and  purse  ? 
Th'  art  better  earth,  but  born  to  dig  the  worse  : 
Thou  cam'st  from  earth,  to  earth  thou  must  return  ; 
And  art  but  earth,  cast  from  the  womb  to  th'  urn. 


jMmsL^^ 


/  have  sinned:  What  shall  I  do  unto  tJicc,  O  thou 
Preserver  of  men  ?  why  dost  thou  set  me  as  a  mark  against 
thee? — JOB  VII.  20. 


LORD,  I  have  done;   and,  LORD/ 1  have  misdone ; 

'Tis  folly  to  contest,  to  strive  with  one 

That  is' too  strong  ;   'tis  folly  to  assail 

Or  prove  an  arm,  that  will,  that  must  prevail. 

I've  done,  I've  done;  these  trembling  hands  have 

thrown 
Their  daring  weapons  down  :   the  day's  thine  own  : 
Forbear  to  strike  where  thou  hast  won  the  field, 
The  palm,  the  palm  is  thine  :   I  yield,  I  yield. 
These  treach'rous  hands,  that  were  so  vainly  bold 
To  try  a  thriveless  combat,  and  to  hold 
Self-wounded  weapons  up,  are  now  extended 
For  mercy  from  thy  hand  ;   that  knee  that  bended 
Upon  her  guardless  guard,  doth  now  repent 
Upon  this  naked  floor ;   see  both  are  bent, 
And  sue  for  pity  :   O  my  ragged  wound 
Is  deep  and  desp'rate,  it  is  drench'd  and  drown'd 


156  Quarks  Emblems. 

In  blood  and  briny  tears  :   it  doth  begin 

To  stink  without,  and  putrify  within. 

Let  that  victorious  hand  that  now  appears 

Just  in  my  blood  prove  gracious  to  my  tears  : 

Thou  great  Preserver  of  presumptuous  man, 

What  shall  I  do  ?  what  satisfaction  can 

Poor  dust  and  ashes  make  ?     O  if  that  blood, 

That  yet  remains  unshed,  were  half  as  good 

As  blood  of  oxen,  if  my  death  might  be 

An  ofFring  to  atone  my  GOD  and  me, 

I  would  disdain  injurious  life,  and  stand 

A  suitor  to  be  wounded  from  thy  hand. 

But  may  thy  wrongs  be  measur'd  by  the  span 

Of  life,  or  balanc'd  with  the  blood  of  man  ? 

No,  no,  eternal  sin  expects,  for  guerdon, 

Eternal  penance,  or  eternal  pardon  : 

Lay  down  thy  weapons,  turn  thy  wrath  away, 

And  pardon  him  that  hatji  no  price  to  pay  ; 

Enlarge  that  soul,  which  base  presumption  binds; 

Thy  justice  cannot  lose  v/hat  mercy  finds; 

0  thou  that  wilt  not  bruise  the  broken  reed, 

Rub  not  my  sores,  nor  prick  the  wounds  that  bleed. 

LORD  if  the  peevish  infant  fights  and  flies, 

"With  unpar'd  weapons  at  his  mother's  eyes, 

Her  frowns  (half-mix'd  with  smiles),  may  chance  to  shew 

An  angry  love-tick  on  his  arm,  or  so ; 

Where  if  the  babe  but  make  a  lip  and  cry, 

Hef  heart  begins  to  melt,  and  by  and  by 

She  coaxes  his  dewy  cheeks  ;  her  babe  she  blesses, 

And  chokes  her  language  with  a  thousand  kisses  ; 

1  am  that  child  :   lo,  here  I  prostrate  lie, 
Pleading  for  mercy,  I  repent,  and  cry 


mbletns.  i 

For  gracious  pardon  ;  lei  thy  gentle  cars 

Hear  that  in  words,  what  mothers  judge  in  tears: 

e  not  my  frailties,  LORD,  but  through  my  fear. 
And  look  (n\  every  trespass  through  a  tear: 
Then  calm  thine  anger,  and  appear  more  mild  ; 
Remember  th'  art  a  father,   I  a  child. 

S.  Bern.  Ser.  xxi.  in  Cant. 
Miserable  man  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  reproach 
of  this  shameful  bondage?  I  am  a  miserable  man,  but  a 
free  man:  free,  because  like  to  Got)  ;  miserable,  because 
against  Go  J) :  0  keeper  of  mankind,  why  hast  thou  set  me 
as  a  mark  against  thee  ?  thou  hast  set  me,  because  thou 
hast  not  hindered  me  :  It  is  just  that  thy  enemy  should  be 
my  enemy,  and  that  he  who  repugneth  thee,  should  repugn 
me :   I,  who  am  against  thee,  am  against  myself. 

Epig.  6. 
But  form'd,  and  fight !  but  born,  and  then  rebel ! 
How  small  a  blast  will  make  a  bubble  swell  ? 
But  dares  the  floor  affront  the  hand  that  laid  it  ? 
So  apt  is  dust  to  fly  in's  face  that  made  it. 


Wherefore  hidest  thou  thy  face,  and  holdest  vie  for  thine 

enemy? — JOB  XIII.  24. 


WHY  dost  thou  shade  thy  lovely  face?     O  why 
Does  that  eclipsing  hand  so  long  deny 
The  sunshine  of  thy  soul-enlivening  eye  ? 

Without  that  light,  what  light  remains  in  me  ? 
Thou  art  my  life,  my  way,  my  light  ;   in  thee 
I  live,  I  move,  and  by  thy  beams  I  see. 

Thou  art  my  life  ;   if  thou  but  turn  away,  • 
My  life's  a  thousand  deaths  :   thou  art  my  way  ; 
Without  thee,  J^ORD,  I  travel  not,  but  stray. 

My  light  thou  art ; '  without  thy  glorious  sight, 
My  eyes  are  darkened  with  perpetual  night. 
My  GOD,  thou  art  my  way,  my  life,  my  light. 

Thou  art  my  way  ;    I  wander,  if  thou  fly  : 
Thou  art  my  light ;   if  hid,  how.  blind  am  I  ? 
Thou  art  my  life  ;   if  thou  withdraw,  I  die. 


i6o  Quarks  Emblems. 

Mine  eyes  are  blind  and  dark,  I  cannot  see ; 
To  whom,  or  whether  should  my  darkness  flee, 
But  to  the  light?  and  who's  that  light  but  thee? 

My  path  is  lost,  my  wandering  steps  do  stray ; 

I  cannot  safely  go,  nor  safely  stay ; 

Whom  should  I  seek  but  thee,  my  path,  my  way  ? 

O,  I  am  dead  :  to  whom  shall  I,  poor  I, 
Repair  ?  to  whom  shall  my  sad  ashes  fly 
For  life  ?  and  where  is  life  but  in  thine  eye  ? 

And  yet  thou  turn'st  away  thy  face,  and  fly'st  me ; 
And  yet  I  sue  for  grace,  and  thou  deny'st  me  ; 
Speak,  art  thou  angry,  LORD,  or  only  try'st  me  ? 

Unscreen  those  heav'nly  lamps,  or  tell  me  why 
Thou  shad'st  thy  face ;  perhaps  thou  think'st  no  eye 
Can  view  those  flames,  and  not  drop  down  and  die. 

If  that  be  all,  shine  forth  and  draw  thee  nigher  ; 
Let  me  behold  and  die,  for  my  desire 
Is,  phcenix-like,  to  perish  in  that  fire. 

Death-conquer'd  Laz  rus  was  redeem'd  by  thee  ; 
If  I  am  dead,  LORD,  set  death's  pris'ner  free  ; 
Am  I  more  spent,  or  stink  I  worse  than  he  ? 

If  my  puff'd  life  be  out,  give  leave  to  tine 

My-  shameless  snuff  at  that  bright  lamp  of  thine  ; 

O  what's  thy  light  the  less  for  light'ning  mine? 

If  I  have  lost  my  path,  great  Shepherd,  say, 
Shall  I  still  wander  in  a  doubtful  way  ? 
LORD,  shall  a  lamb  of  Isr'el's  sheep-fold  stray  ? 


QuarleJ  Emblems.  \6\ 

Thou  art  the  pilgrim's  path,  the  blind  man' 
The  dead  man's  life  :   on  thee  my  hopes  rely  ; 
If  thou  remove,  I  err,  I  grope,  '  die. 

Disclose  thy  sun-beams,  close  thy  wings  and  stay  ; 

See,  see  how  I  am  blind  and  dead,  and  stray, 
O  thou  that  art  my  Light,  my  life,  my  way. 

S.  August.  Soliloq.  Cap.  i. 

Why  dost  thou  hide  thy  face  :  happily  thou  wilt  say, 
None  can  see  thy  face  and  live  :  Ah,  LORD,  let  me  die,  that 
I  may  see  thee  ;  let  me  see  thee,  that  I  may  die  :  I  would 
not  live,  but  die  ;  that  I  may  see  Christ,  I  desire  death  ;  that 
I  may  live  with  Christ,  I  despise  life. 

Anselm.  Med.  Cap.  v. 

O  excellent  hiding,  which  is  become  my  perfection  ! 
My  God,  thou  hidest  thy  treasure,  to  kindle  my  desire  !  thou 
hidest  thy  pearl,  to  inflame  the  seeker  ;  thou  delayest  to  give, 
that  thou  mayest  teach  me  to  importune  ;  seemest  not  to 
hear,  to  make  me  persevere. 

Epig.  7. 
If  Heav'n's  all-quick'ning  eyes  vouchsafe  to  shine 
Upon  our  souls,  we  slight ;   if  not,  we  whine  : 
Our  equinoctial  hearts  can  never  lie 
Secure,  beneath  the  tropics  of  that  eye. 


Oh  that  my  head  were  waters,  and  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of 
tears,  that  I  might  weep  day  and  night. — -JER.  IX.   i. 


Oh  that  mine  eyes  were  springs,  and  could  transform 

Their  drops  to  seas  ;   my  sighs  into  a  storm 

Of  zeal,  and  sacred  violence,  wherein 

This  lab'ring  vessel,  laden  with  her  sin, 

Might  suffer  sudden  shipwreck,  and  be  split 

Upon  that  rock,  where  my  drench'd  soul  may  sit, 

O'erwhelm'd  with  plenteous  passion  :      Oh,  and  there 

Drop,  drop,  into  an  everlasting  tear ! 

Ah  me  1   that  ev'ry  sliding  vein  that  wanders 

Through  this  vast  isle,  did  work  her  wild  meanders 

In  brackish  tears  instead  of  blood,  and  swell 

This  flesh  with  holy  dropsies,  from  whose  well, 

Made  warm  with  sighs,  may  fume  my  wasting  breath, 

Whilst  I  dissolve  in  streams,  and  reek  to  death  ! 

These  narrow  sluices  of  my  dribbling  eyes 

Are  much  too  strait  for  those  quick  springs  that  rise, 

And  hourly  fill  my  temples  to  the  top  j 

I  cannot  shed  for  every  sin  a  drop  ; 

Great  Builder  of  mankind,  why  hast  thou  sent 

Such  swelling  floods,  and  made  so  small  a  vent  ? 

M     2 


1 64  Quarlei  Emblems. 

Oh  that  this  flesh  had  been  composed  of  snow, 
Instead  of  earth  ;   and  bones  of  ice  ;  that  so, 
Feeling  the  fervour  of  my  sin,  and  loathing 
The  fire  I  feel,  I  might  have  thaw'd  to  nothing ! 

0  thou  that  didst,  with  hopeful  joy,  entomb 
Me  thrice  three  moons  in  thy  laborious  womb, 
And  then,  with  joyful  pain,  brought'st  forth  a  son, 
What,  worth  thy  labour,  has  thy  labour  done  ? 
What  was  there,  ah  !  what  was  there  in  my  birth 
That  could  deserve  the  easiest  smile  of  mirth  ? 

A  man  was  born  :  alas  !  and  what's  a  man  ! 

A  scuttle  full  of  dust,  a  measur'd  span 

Of  flitting  time ;   a  furnish'd  pack,  whose  wares 

Are  sullen  griefs,  and  soul-tormenting  cares  : 

A  vale  of  tears,  a  vessel  tunn'd  with  breath, 

By  sickness  broach'd,  to  be  drawn  out  by  death  : 

A  hapless,  helpless  thing,  that,  born,  does  cry 

To  feed,  that  feeds  to  live,  that  lives  to  die. 

Great  GOD  and  man,  whose  eye  spent  drops  so  often 

For  me,  that  cannot  weep  enough  ;   O  soften 

These  marble  brains,  and  strike  this  flinty  rock  ; 

Or,  if  the  music  of  thy  Peter's  cock 

Will  more  prevail,  fill,  fill  my  heark'ning  ears 

With  that  sweet  sound,  that  I  may  melt  in  tears  ! 

1  cannot  weep  until  thou  broach  mine  eye ; 
O  give  me  vent,  or  else  I  burst,  and  die. 


S.  AMBROS.  in  Psal.  cxviii. 

He  that  commits  sins  to  be  wept  for,  cannot  weep  for 
sins  committed  ;  and  being  himself  most  lamentable,  hath  no 
tears  to  lament  his  offences. 


Quaries*  Emblems. 


N A/i an/..  Orat  iii. 
Tears  arc  the  deluge  o(  sin.  and  the  world's  sacrifi<  e 

S.  HlERON.  in  Esaiam. 

Prayer   appeases    God,  but   a  tear   compels   him :    that 
moves  him,  but  this  constrains  him. 

EPIG.  8. 

Earth  is  an  island  ported  round  with  fears  ; 
Thy  way  to  Hcav'n  is  through  the  sea  of  tears ; 
It  is  a  stormy  passage,  where  is  found 
The  wreck  of  many  a  ship,  but  no  man  drown'd. 


The  sorrows  of  hell  compassed  me  about,  and  the  snares  of 
death  prevented  me.- — Psalm  win.  5. 


IS  not  this  type  well  cut,  in  ev'ry  part 

Full  of  rich  cunning  !   fill'd  with  Zeuxian  art  ? 

Are  not  their  hunters,  and  the  Stygian  hounds 

Limn'd  full  to  th'  life  \  didst  ever  hear  the  sounds 

Of  music,  and  the  lip-dividing  breaths 

Of  the  strong  winded  horn,  recheats,  and  deaths, 

Done  more  exact?  th'  infernal  Nimrod's  halloo? 

The  lawless  purlieus  ?   and  the  game  they  follow  ? 

The  hidden  engines,  and  the  snares  that  lie 

So  undiscover'd,  so  obscure  to  th'  eye  ? 

The  new  drawn  net,  and  her  entangled  prey  ? 

And  him  that  closes  it  ;     Beholder,  say, 

Is't  not  well  done  !   seems  not  an  em'lous  strife 

Betwixt  the  rare  cut  picture  and  the  life  ? 

These  purlieu  men  are  devils  ;   and  the  hounds 

(Those  quick-nos'd  cannibals  that  scour  the  grounds 

Temptation  ;   and  the  game,  the  fiends  pursue, 

Are  human  souls,  which  still  they  have  in  view  : 


i  68  Quatles  Emblems. 

Whose  fury  if  they  chance  to  'scape,  by  flying, 
The  skilful  hunter  plants  his  net,  close  lying 
On  th'  unsuspected  earth,  baited  with  treasure, 
Ambitious  honour,  and  self-wasting  pleasure  : 
Where,  if  the  soul  but  stoop,  death  stands  prepar'd 
To  draw  the  net,  and  drown  the  souls  ensnared. 
Poor  soul  !   how  art  thou  hurried  to  and  fro  1 
Where  canst  thou  safely  stay  ?  where  safely  go  1 
If  stay  ;   these  hot-mouth'd  hounds  are  apt  to  tear  thee 
If  go  ;   the  snares  enclose,  the  nets  ensnare  thee  : 
What  good  in  this  bad  world  has  power  t'  invite  thee 
A  willing  guest ;   wherein  can  earth  delight  thee  ? 
Her  pleasures  are  but  itch  :   her  wealth,  but  cares  : 
A  world  of  dangers,  and  a  world  of  snares  : 
The  close  pursuers'  busy  hands  do  plant 
Snares  in  thy  substance  ;   snares  attend  thy  want ; 
Snares  in  thy  credit ;   snares  in  thy  disgrace  ; 
Snares  in  thy  high  estate ;   snares  in  thy  base  ; 
Snares  tuck  thy  bed  ;  and  snares  surround  thy  board  ; 
Snares  watch  thy  thoughts  ;  and  snares  attach  thy  word 
Snares  in  thy  quiet ;   snares  in  thy  commotion  ; 
Snares  in  thy  diet ;   snares  in  thy  devotion  ; 
Snares  lurk  in  thy  resolves,  snares  in  thy  doubt ; 
Snares  lie  within  thy  heart,  and  snares  without ; 
Snares  are  above  thy  head,  and  snares  beneath  ; 
Snares  in  thy  sickness,  snares  are  in  thy  death. 
Oh  !   if  these  purlieus  be  so  full  of  danger, 
Great  God  of  hearts,  the  world's  sole  sov'reign  ranger, 
Preserve  thy  deer  ;   and  let  my  soul  be  blest 
In  thy  safe  forest  where  I  seek  for  rest  : 
Then  let  the  hell-hounds  roar,  I  fear  no  ill ; 
Rouse  me  they  may,  but  have  no  power  to  kill. 


tries*  Emblems.  I 


S.  A.MBR<  >>.  Lib.  iv.  in  Cap.  iv.  in  Luc 
The  reward  o{  honours,  the  height  of  power,  the  delicacy 

of  diet,  and    the    beauty  of  an    harlot,  arc   the   snares   of  the 
devil. 

S.  AMBROS.  de   Bono  Mortis. 
Whilst  thou  seckest  pleasures,  thou   runnest   into  snares, 
for  the  eye  of  the  harlot  is  the  snare  of  the  adulterer. 

Savanar. 
In  eating,  he  sets  before  us  gluttony  ;  in  generation, 
Luxury ;  in  labour,  sluggishness  ;  in  conversing,  envy  ;  in 
governing,  covetousness ;  in  correcting,  anger  ;  in  honour, 
pride  ;  in  the  heart,  he  sets  evil  thoughts  ;  in  the  mouth, 
evil  words  ;  in  actions,  evil  works  ;  when  awake,  he  moves 
us  to  evil  actions  ;  when  asleep,  to  filthy  dreams. 

Epig.  9. 
Be  sad,  my  heart,  deep  dangers  wait  thy  mirth  : 
Thy  soul's  waylaid  by  sea,  by  hell,  by  earth  : 
Hell  has  her  hounds;   earth,  snares  ;  the  sea,  a  shelf: 
But,  most  of  all,  my  heart,  beware  thyself. 


Enter  not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant ;  for  in  thy  sight 

sJiall  no  man  living  be  justified. — Psalm  cxliii.  2. 

Scsus.    3mtitt.    Sinner. 

Jesus.   BRING  forth  the  pris'ner,  Justice.     Justice.  Thy 
commands 
Are  done,  just  Judge  :   See  here  the  pris'ner  stands. 
Jesus.   What  has  the  pris'ner  done?      Say;   what's 
the  cause 
Of  his  commitment  ?      Justice.    He  hath  broke  the  laws 
Of  his  too  gracious  GOD;   conspir'd  the  death 
Of  that  great  Majesty  that  gave  him  breath, 
And  heaps  transgression,  LORD,  upon  transgression. 
Jesus.   How  know'st  thou  this  ?      Justice.   E'en  by 
his  own  confession: 
His  sins  are  crying;   and  they  cry'd  aloud: 
They  cry'd  to  Heav'n,  they  cry'd  to  Heav'n  for  blood. 
Jesus.  What  say'st  thou,  sinner?   hast  thou  ought 
to  plead 
That  sentence  should  not  pass?  hold  up  thy  head, 
And  show  thy  brazen,  thy  rebellious  face. 


172  Quarles  Emblems. 

Sinner.   Ah  me!   I  dare  not:    I'm  too  vile  and  base 
To  tread  upon  the  earth,  much  more  to  lift 
Mine  eyes  to  Heav'n;   I  need  no  other  shrift 
Than  mine  own  conscience  ;   LORD,  I  must  confess, 
I  am  no  more  than  dust,  and  no  whit  less 
Than  my  indictment  styles  me;   ah!  if  thou 
Search  too  severe,  with  too  severe  a  brow, 
What  flesh  can  stand?   I  have  transgress'd  thy  laws; 
My  merits  plead  thy  vengeance;   not  my  cause. 

Justice.   LORD,  shall  I  strike  the  blow  ?     Jesus.  Hold, 
Justice,  stay  : 
Sinner,  speak  on  ;  what  hast  thou  more  to  say? 

Sinner.  Vile  as  I  am,  and  of  myself  abhorr'd, 
I  am  thy  handy-work,  thy  creature,  LORD, 
Stampt  with  thy  glorious  image,  and  at  first 
Most  like  to  thee,  though  now  a  poor  accurst, 
Convicted  caitiff,  and  degenVous  creature, 
Here  trembling  at  thy  bar.      Justice.   Thy  fault's  the 

greater. 
LORD,  shall  I  strike  the  blow?    Jesus.  Hold,  Justice,  stay : 
Speak,  sinner;  hast  thou  nothing  else  to  say? 

Sinner.   Nothing  but  mercy,  mercy,  LORD;   my  state 
Is  miserably  poor  and  desperate; 
I  quite  renounce  myself,  the  world,  and  flee 
From  Lord  to  JESUS,  from  thyself  to  thee. 

Justice.    Cease  thy  vain  hopes;   my  angry  GOD  has 
vow'd  ; 
Abused  mercy  must  have  blood  for  blood: 
Shall  I  yet  strike  the  blow?      Jesus.  Stay,  Justice,  hold; 
My  bowels  yearn,  my  fainting  blood  grows  cold, 
To  view  the  trembling  wretch;   methinks  I  spy 
My  Father's  image  in  the  pris'ner's  eye. 


nblems,  1  7  5 

fttce.    I  cannot  hold.       JesUS,    Then  turn  thy 

thirsty  blade 

Into  my  sides,  hi  there  tin-  wound  be  made: 
Cheer  up,  dear  soul;    redeem  thy  life  with  mine: 
My  soul  shall  smart,  my  heart  shall  bleed  for  thine. 

Sinner.   O  groundless  deeps!   O  love  beyond  degree  ! 
Th'  offended  dies  to  set  th'  offender  free. 

S.  August.  • 
LORD,  if  I  have  done  that,  for  which  thou  mayest  damn 
me ;  thou  hast  not  lost  that,  whereby  thou  mayest  save  me : 
remember  not,  sweet  Jesus,  thy  justice  against  the  sinner,  but 
thy  benignity  towards  thy  creature :  remember  not  to  proceed 
against  a  guilty  soul,  but  remember  thy  mercy  towards  a 
miserable  wretch :  forget  the  insolence  of  the  provoker,  and 
behold  the  misery  of  the  invoker;  for  what  is  Jesus  but  a 
Saviour? 

ANSELM. 
Have  respect  to  what  thy  Son  hath  done  for  me,  and 
forget  what  my  sins  have  done  against  thee:  my  flesh  hath 
provoked  thee  to  vengeance;  let  the  flesh  of  Christ  move 
thee  to  mercy:  It  is  much  that  my  rebellions  have  deserved; 
but  it  is  more  that  my  Redeemer  hath  merited. 

Epig.  10. 
Mercy  of  mercies!   He  that  was  my  drudge 
Is  now  my  advocate,  is  now  my  judge: 
He  suffers,  pleads,  and  sentences  alone: 
Three  I  adore,  and  yet  adore  but  One. 


^y 


Let  not  the  i^ater-flood  overflow  me,  neitlier  let  the  deep 
swallow  me  up. — Psalm  lxix.  15. 


THE  world's  a  sea;   my  flesh  a  ship  that's  mann'd 

With  lab'ring  thoughts,  and  steer'd  by  reason's  hand 

My  heart's  the  seaman's  card,  whereby  she  sails; 

My  loose  affections  are  the  greater  sails; 

The  top-sail  is  my  fancy,  and  the  gusts 

That  fill  these  wanton  sheets,  are  worldly  lusts. 

Pray'r  is  the  cable,  at  whose  end  appears 

The  anchor  Hope,  ne'er  slipp'd  but  in  our  fears: 

My  will's  the  inconstant  pilot,  that  commands 

The  stagg'ring  keel;   my  sins  are  like  the  sands: 

Repentance  is  the  bucket,  and  mine  eye 

The  pump  unus'd  (but  in  extremes)  and  dry: 

My  conscience  is  the  plummet  that  does  press 

The  deeps,  but  seldom  cries,  O  fathomless: 

Smooth  calm's  security;   the  gulph,  despair; 

My  freight's  corruption,  and  this  life's  my  fare: 

My  soul's  the  passenger,  confus'dly  driv'n 

From  fear  to  fright;   her  landing  port  is  Heav'n. 


J  6  Quarks  Emblems. 

My  seas  are  stormy,  and  my  ship  doth  leak; 

My  sailor's  rude;   my  steersman  faint  and  weak: 

My  canvas  torn,  it  flaps  from  side  to  side : 

My  cable's  crack'd,  my  anchor's  slightly  ty'd, 

My  pilot's  craz'd  :   my  shipwreck  sands  are  cloak'd  ; 

My  bucket's  broken,  and  my  pump  is  chok'd; 

My  calm's  deceitful;   and  my  gulph  too  near; 

My  wares  are  slubber'd,  and  my  fare's  too  dear: 

My  plummet's  light,  it  cannot  sink  nor  sound; 

Oh,  shall  my  rock-bethreaten'd  soul  be  drown'd? 

LORD,  still  the  seas,  and  shield  my  ship  from  harm; 

Instruct  my  sailors,  guide  my  steersman's  arm : 

Touch  thou  my  compass,  and  renew  my  sails, 

Send  stifter  courage  or  send  milder  gales; 

Make  strong  my  cable,  bind  my  anchor  faster; 

Direct  my  pilot,  and  be  thou  his  master; 

Object  the  sands  to  my  most  serious  view, 

Make  sound  my  bucket,  bore  my  pump  anew: 

New  cast  my  plummet,  make  it  apt  to  try 

Where  the  rocks  lurk,  and  where  the  quicksands  lie; 

Guard  thou  the  gulf  with  love,  my  calms  with  care; 

Cleanse  thou  my  freight;   accept  my  slender  fare; 

Refresh  the  sea-sick  passenger;   cut  short- 

His  voyage;   land  him  in  his  wish'd-for  port: 

Thou,  thou,  whom  winds  and  stormy  seas  obey, 

That  through  the  deep  gav'st  grumbling  Isr'el  way, 

Say  to  my  soul,  be  safe;   and  then  mine  eye 

Shall  scorn  grim  death,  although  grim  death  stand  by 

O  thou  whose  strength-reviving  arm  did  cherish 

Thy  sinking  Peter,  at  the  point  to  perish, 

Reach  forth  thy  hand,  or  bid  me  tread  the  wave, 

I'll  come,  I'll  come:   the  voice  that  calls  will  save. 


(  htd>  /c  s   Emblems. 


7  7 


S.  A.MBROS.  Apol.  post  pro.  David.  Cap.  iii. 
The  confluence  of  lust  makes  a  great  tempest,  which  in 
this   sea    disturbeth   the  seafaring  soul,  that    reason   cannot 


S.  AUGI  ST.  Soliloq.  Cap.  xxxv. 

We  labour  in  the  boisterous  sea  :  thou  standest  upon  the 
shore  and  seest  our  dangers  ;  give  us  grace  to  hold  a  middle 
e.unsc  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  that,  both  dangers 
escaped,  we  may  arrive  at  the  port  secure. 


Epig.  i  i. 

My  soul,  the  seas  are  rough,  and  thou  a  stranger 
In  these  false  coasts;   O  keep  aloof;   there's  danger 
Cast  forth  thy  plummet ;   sec,  a  rock  appears ; 
Thy  ship  wants  sea-room;   make  it  with  thy  tears. 


()  that  thou  would  est  hide  me  in  the  gravet  that  thou  wouldest 
kap  me  in  secret  until  thy  wrath  be  past. — Jon  XIV.  13. 


O  whither  shall  I  fly?  what  path  untrod 
Shall  I  seek  out  to  'scape  the  flaming  rod 
Of  my  offended,  of  my  angry  God  ? 

Where  shall  I  sojourn  ?   what  kind  sea  will  hide 
My  head  from  thunder  ?  where  shall  I  abide, 
Until  his  flames  be  quench'd  or  laid  aside  ? 

What,  if  my  feet  should  take  their  hasty  flight, 
And  seek  protection  in  the  shades  of  night  ? 
Alas  !  no  shades  can  blind  the  God  of  light. 

What,  if  my  soul  should  take  the  wings  of  day, 
And  find  some  desert?      If  she  springs  away, 
The  wings  of  vengeance  clip  as  fast  as  they. 

What,  if  some  solid  rock  should  entertain 
My  frighted  soul  ?   can  solid  rocks  restrain 
The  stroke  of  Justice,  and  not  cleave  in  twain  ? 

N 


180  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Nor  sea,  nor  shade,  nor  shield,  nor  rock,  nor  cave, 

Nor  silent  deserts,  nor  the  sullen  grave, 

What  flame-ey'd  fury  means  to  smite,  can  save. 

The  seas  will  part,  graves  open,  rocks  will  split ; 
The  shield  will  cleave ;  the  frighted  shadows  flit ; 
Where  Justice  aims,  her  fiery  darts  must  hit. 

No,  no,  if  stern-brow'd  vengeance  means  to  thunder, 
There  is  no  place  above,  beneath,  or  under, 
So  close,  but  will  unlock,  or  rive  in  sunder. 

'Tis  vain  to  flee ;  'tis  neither  here  nor  there 
Can  'scape  that  hand,  until  that  hand  forbear ; 
Ah  me  !  where  is  he  not,  that 's  ev'rywhere  ? 

'Tis  vain  to  flee,  till  gentle  mercy  show 

Her  better  eye ;  the  farther  off  we  go, 

The  swing  of  Justice  deals  the  mightier  blow. 

Th'  ingenuous  child,  corrected,  doth  not  fly 
His  angry  mother's  hand,  but  clings  more  nigh, 
And  quenches  with  his  tears  her  flaming  eye. 

Shadows  are  faithless,  and  the  rocks  are  false  ; 
No  trust  in  brass,  no  trust  in  marble  walls ; 
Poor  cots  are  e'en  as  safe  as  princes'  halls. 

Great  God  !   there  is  no  safety  here  below; 

Thou  art  my  fortress,  thou  that  seem'st  my  foe, 

'Tis  thou,  that  strik'st  the  stroke,  must  guard  the  blow 

Thou  art  my  GOD,  by  thee  I  fall  or  stand; 
Thy  grace  hath  giv'n  me  courage  to  withstand 
All  tortures,  but  my  conscience  and  thy  hand. 


tries1  Emblems.  i  8  i 

I  know  thy  justice  is  thyself;  1  know, 
Just  GrOD,  thy  very  self  is  mercy  too; 
If  not  to  thee,  where,  whither  shall  I  go1 

Then  work  thy  will:   if  passion  bid  me  flee, 
My  reason  shall  obey;    my  wings  shall  be 
Stretch'd  out  w  farther  than  from  thee  to  thee. 

S.  August,  in  Psal.  xxxiii. 

Whither  fly  I  ?  to  what  place  can  I  safely  fly  ?  to  what 
mountain  ?  to  what  den  ?  to  what  strong  house  ?  what  castle 
shall  I  hold  1  what  walls  shall  hold  me  ?  whithersoever  I  go, 
myself  followeth  me  :  For  whatsoever  thou  fliest,  O  man, 
thou  mayest,  but  thy  own  conscience :  wheresoever,  O  LORD, 
I  go,  I  find  thee;  if  angry,  a  revenger;  if  appeased,  a 
redeemer:  what  way  have  I,  but  to  fly  from  thee  to  thee? 
that  thou  mayest  avoid  thy  God,  address  to  thy  Lord. 

EfIG.    12. 

Hath  vengeance  found  thee?  can  thy  fears  command 
No  rocks  to  shield  thee  from  her  thund'ring  hand  ? 
Knows't  thou  not  where  to  'scape?   I'll  tell  thee  where: 
My  soul,  make  clean  thy  conscience  ;   hide  thee  there. 


Ire  not  my  days  few  ?      Cease  then,  and  let  me  alone,  that 
I  may  bewail  myself  a  little. — Jon  X.  20. 


My  glass  is  half  unspent;   forbear  t'  arrest 
My  thriftless  day  too  soon :   my  poor  request 
Is,  that  my  glass  may  run  but  out  the  rest. 

My  time-devoured  minutes  will  be  done 
Without  thy  help;   see,  see  how  swift  they  run  : 
Cut  not  my  thread  before  my  thread  be  spun. 

The  gain's  not  great  I  purchase  by  this  stay; 
What  loss  sustain'st  thou  by  so  small  delay, 
To  whom  ten  thousand  years  are  but  a  day  ? 

My  following  eye  can  hardly  make  a  shift 
To  count  my  winged  hours  ;   they  fly  so  swift, 
They  scarce  deserve  the  bounteous  name  of  gift. 

The  secret  wheels  of  hurrying  time  do  give 
So  short  a  warning,  and  so  fast  they  drive, 
That  I  am  dead  before  I  seem  to  live. 


184  Qua rles  E 111  blems. 

And  what's  a  life?   a  weary  pilgrimage, 
Whose  glory  in  one  day  doth  fill  thy  stage 
With  childhood,  manhood,  and  decrepit  age. 

And  what's  a  life  ?  the  flourishing  array 
Of  the  proud  summer-meadow,  which  to-day 
Wears  her  green  plush,  and  is  to-morrow  hay. 

And  what's  a  life?  a  blast  sustain'd  with  clothing, 
Maintain'd  with  food,  retain'd  with  vile  self-loathing, 
Then  weary  of  itself,  again  to  nothing. 

Read  on  this  dial,  how  the  shades  devour 

My  short-liv'd  winter's  day;   hour  eats  up  hour; 

Alas  !  the  total's  but  from  eight  to  four. 

Behold  these  lilies  (which  thy  hands  have  made 

Fair  copies  of  my  life,  and  open  laid 

To  view),  how  soon  they  droop,  how  soon  they  fade  ! 

Shade  not  that  dial,  night  will  blind  too  soon; 
My  non-ag'd  day  already  points  to  noon  ; 
How  simple  is  my  suit !   how  small  my  boon  ! 

Nor  do  I  beg  this  slender  inch,  to  while 

The  time  away,  or  safely  to  beguile 

My  thoughts  with  joy,  there's  nothing  worth  a  smile. 

No,  no  :   'tis  not  to  please  my  wanton  ears 
With  frantic  mirth,  I  beg  but  hours,  not  years  : 
And  what  thou  giv'st  me,  I  will  give  to  tears. 

Draw  not  that  soul  which  would  be  rather  led ! 
That  seed  has  yet  not  broke  my  serpent's  head  ; 
O  shall  I  die  before  my  sins  are  dead  ? 


Quarles*  Emblems,  185 

Behold  these  rags;  am  I  a  fitting  guest 
To  taste  the  dainties  of  thy  royal  feast, 
With  hands  and  \acc  unwash'd,  ungirt,  unblest  '. 

First,  let  the  Jordan  streams,  that  find  supplies 

From  the  deep  fountain  of  my  heart,  arise, 

And  cleanse  my  spots,  and  clear  my  lep'rons  eyes. 

I  have  a  world  of  sins  to  be  lamented  ; 
I  have  a  sen  of  tears  that  must  be  vented  : 
0  spare  till  then  ;   and  then  I  die  contented. 

S.  AUGUST.  Lib.  de  Civit.  Dei.  Cap.  x. 
The  time  wherein  we   live,  is   taken   from   the  space  of 
our  life  ;   and  what   remaineth,  is  daily  made  less,  insomuch 
that  the  time  of  our  life  is  nothing  but  a  passage  to  death. 

S.  GREG.  Lib.  ix.  Cap.  lxiv.  in  Job. 
As  moderate  afflictions  bring  tears,  so   immoderate  take 
away    tears  ;     insomuch    that    sorrow   becometh    no    sorrow, 
which  swallowing  up  the  mind  of  the   afflicted,  taketh  away 
the  sense  of  the  affliction. 

Epig.  13. 
Fear'st  thou  to  go,  when  such  an  arm  invites  thee? 
Dread'st  thou  thy  loads  of  sin  ?  or  what  affrights  thee  ? 
If  thou  begin  to  fear,  thy  fear  begins  : 
Fool,  can  he  bear  thee  hence,  and  not  thy  sins  ? 


O  that  men  were  wise,  that  they  understood  this,  that  they 
would  consider  theU  latter  end  ! — Deut.  xxxii.  29. 


JHcsj),  Spirit. 

Flesh.  What  means  my  sisters  eye  so  oft  to  pass 
Through  the  long  entry  of  that  optic  glass  ? 
Tell  me  ;   what  secret  virtue  doth  invite 
Thy  wrinkled  eye  to  such  unknown  delight  ? 

Spirit.   It  helps  the  sight,  makes  things  remote  appear 
In  perfect  view;   it  draws  the  objects  near. 

Flesh.   What  sense-delighting  objects  dost  thou  spy  ? 
What  doth  that  glass  present  before  thine  eye  ? 

Spirit.    I  see  thy  foe,  my  reconciled  friend, 
Grim  death,  e'en  standing  at  the  glass's  end: 
His  left  hand  holds  a  branch  of  palm;   his  right 
Holds  forth  a  two-edg'd  sword.      Flesh.   A  proper  sight. 
And  is  this  all  ?  doth  thy  prospective  please 
Th'  abused  fancy  with  no  shapes  but  these  ? 

Spirit.   Yes,  I  behold  the  darken'd  sun  bereav'n 
Of  all  his  light,  the  battlements  of  Heav'n 


I  88  Quarles  Emblems. 

Swelt'ring  in  flames;   the  angel-guarded  Son 
Of  glory  on  his  high  tribunal-throne ; 
I  see  a  brimstone  sea  of  boiling  fire, 
And  fiends,  with  knotted  whips  of  flaming  wire, 
Tort'ring  poor  souls,  that  gnash  their  teeth  in  vain, 
And  gnaw  their  flame-tormented  tongues  for  pain. 
Look,  sister,  how  the  queasy-stomach'd  graves 
Vomit  their  dead,  and  how  the  purple  waves 
Scald  their  consumeless  bodies,  strongly  cursing 
All  wombs  for  bearing,  and  all  paps  for  nursing. 

Flesh.   Can  thy  distemper'd  fancy  take  delight 
In  view  of  tortures?    these  are  shows  t'  affright  : 
Look  in  this  glass  triangular;  look  here, 
Here's  that  will  ravish  eyes.   Spirit.  What  seest  thou  there? 

Flesh.  The  world  in  colours ;   colours  that  distain 
The  cheeks  of  Proteus  or  the  silken  train 
Of  Flora's  nymphs  ;   such  various  sorts  of  hue, 
As  sun-confronting  Iris  never  knew  : 
Here,  if  thou  please  to  beautify  a  town, 
Thou  may'st ;   or  with  a  hand,  turn't  upside  down  ; 
Here  may'st  thou  scant  or  widen  by  the  measure 
Of  thine  own  will ;   make  short  or  long  at  pleasure  : 
Here  may'st  thou  tire  thy  fancy,  and  advise 
With  shows  more  apt  to  please  more  curious  eyes. 

Spirit.  Ah  fool !  that  doat'st  on  vain,  on  present  toys, 
And  disrespect'st  those  true,  those  future  joys  : 
How  strongly  are  thy  thoughts  befool'd,  alas  ! 
To  doat  on  goods  that  perish  with  thy  glass  ! 
Nay,  vanish  with  the  turning  of  a  hand  : 
Were  they  but  painted  colours,  it  might  stand 
With  painted  reason  that  they  might  devote  thee  : 
But  things  that  have  no  being  to  besot  thee  ! 


Quarled  Emblems.  189 

Foresight  of  future  torments  is  the  way 
To  balk  these  ills  which  present  joys  betray. 
As  then  hast  fool'd  thyself,  so  now-  come  hither, 
Break  that  fond  glass,  and  let's  be  wise  together. 


S.  BONAVENT.  de  Contemptu  Saeculi. 

O  that  men  would  be  wise,  and   understand,  and  foresee. 

Be  wise,  to  know  three  things,  the  multitude  of  those  that 
are  to  be  damned  ;  the  few  number  of  those  that  are  to  be 
saved  ;  and  the  vanity  of  transitory  things  :  understand 
three  things  :  the  multitude  of  sins,  the  omission  of  good 
things,  and  the  loss  of  time :  foresee  three  things  ;  the 
danger  of  death,  the  last  judgment,  and  eternal  punishment. 


Epig.  14. 
What,  soul,  no  further  yet?  what,  ne'er  commence 
Master  in  faith  ?  still  bachelor  of  sense  ? 
Is't  insufficiency?  or  what  has  made  thee 
O'erslip  thy  lost  degree  ?  thy  lusts  have  staid  thee. 


Mr  life  is  spent  with  grief,  and  my  years  with  sighing.- 
Psalm  xxxi.  io. 


What  sullen  star  rul'd  my  untimely  birth, 

That  would  not  lend  my  days  one  hour  of  mirth  ? 

How  oft  have  these  bare  knees  been  bent  to  gain 

These  slender  alms  of  one  poor  smile  in  vain  ? 

How  often,  tir'd  with  the  fastidious  light, 

Have  my  faint  lips  implor'd  the  shades  of  night  ? 

How  often  have  my  nightly  torments  pray'd 

For  ling' ring  twilight,  glutted  with  the  shade  ? 

Day  worse  than  night,  night  worse  than  day  appears 

In  fears  I  spend  my  nights,  my  days  in  tears  : 

I  moan  unpitied,  groan  without  relief, 

There  is  no  end  or  measure  of  my  grief. 

The  smiling  flow'r  salutes  the  day;   it  grows 

Untouch'd  with  care  ;   it  neither  spins  nor  sows  : 

0  that  ni}-  tedious  life  were  like  this  flow'r, 

Or  freed  from  grief,  or  finish'd  with  an  hour  : 


19-  Quarlcs  Emblems. 

Why  was  I  born  ?  why  was  I  born  a  man  ? 

And  why  proportion'd  by  so  large  a  span  % 

Or  why  suspended  by  the  common  lot, 

And  being  born  to  die,  why  die  I  not  ? 

Ah  me  !  why  is  my  sorrow-wasted  breath 

Denied  the  easy  privilege  of  death  ? 

The  branded  slave,  that  tugs  the  weary  oar, 

Obtains  the  sabbath  of  a  welcome  shore  ; 

His  ransom'd  stripes  are  heal'd ;  his  native  soil 

Sweetens  the  mem'ry  of  his  foreign  toil  : 

But  ah  ;   my  sorrows  are  not  half  so  blest ; 

My  labour  finds  no  point,  my  pains  no  rest ; 

I  barter  sighs  for  tears,  and  tears  for  groans, 

Still  vainly  rolling  Sisyphaean  stones. 

Thou  just  observer  of  our  flying  hours, 

That,  with  thy  adamantine  fangs,  devours 

The  brazen  monuments  of  renowned  kings, 

Doth  thy  glass  stand  ?  or  be  thy  moulting  wings 

Unapt  to  fly  ?  if  not,  why  dost  thou  spare 

A  willing  breast ;   a  breast  that  stands  so  fair  ; 

A  dying  breast,  that  hath  but  only  breath 

To  beg  a  wound,  and  strength  to  crave  a  death  ? 

O  that  the  pleased  Heav'ns  would  once  dissolve 

These  fleshly  fetters,  that  so  fast  involve 

My  hamper'd  soul ;   then  would  my  soul  be  blest 

From  all  those  ills,  and  wrap  her  thoughts  in  rest  : 

Till  then,  my  days  are  months,  my  months  are  years, 

My  years  are  ages  to  be  spent  in  tears  : 

My  grief's  entailed  upon  my  wasteful  breath, 

Which  no  recovry  can  cut  off  but  death. 

Breath  drawn  in  cottages,  puffd  out  in  moans, 

Begins,  continues,  and  concludes  in  groans. 


Quarks'  Emblems. 


'93 


[NNOCENT,  de  Vilitate  Condit  Human. e. 

0  who  will  give  mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I 
may  bewail  the  miserable  ingress  of  man's  condition  ;  the 
sinful  progress  of  man's  conversation;  the  damnable  egress 
in  man's  dissolution?  I  will  consider  with  tears,  whereof 
man  was  made,  what  man  doth,  and  what  man  is  to  do! 
alas!  he  is  formed  of  earth,  conceived  in  sin,  born  to  punish- 
ment: lie  doth  evil  things,  which  are  not  lawful;  he  doth 
filthy  things,  which  are  not  decent;  he  doth  vain  things, 
which  are  not  expedient. 

Epig.  15. 
My  heart,  thy  life's  a  debt  by  bond,  which  bears 
A  secret  date  ;  the  use  is  groans  and  tears  : 
Plead  not ;  usurious  nature  will  have  all, 
As  well  the  int'rest  as  the  principal. 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH 


v*s 


My  s.»ul  hath  coveted  to  desire  thy  judgments. — Psalm  cxix. 

/  see  another  law  in  my  members,  waning  against  the  law  of 
my  mind,  and  bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of 

sin. — Rom.  vii.  23. 

0  HOW  my  will  is  hurried  to  and  fro, 

And  how  my  unresolv'd  resolves  do  vary ! 

1  know  not  where  to  fix,  sometimes  I  go 

This  way,  then  that,  and  then  the  quite  contrary  : 
I  like,  dislike  :  lament  for  what  I  could  not ; 
I  do,  undo  ;  yet  still  do  what  I  should  not, 
And,  at  the  selfsame  instant,  will  the  thing  I  would  not. 


Thus  are  my  weather-beaten  thoughts  opprest 

With  th'  earth-bred  winds  of  my  prodigious  will  ; 
Thus  am  I  hourly  tost  from  east  to  west 
Upon  the  rolling  streams  of  good  and  ill : 
Thus  am  I  driv'n  upon  the  slipp'ry  suds 
From  real  ills  to  false  apparent  goods  : 
My  life 's  a  troubled  sea,  compos'd  of  ebbs  and  floods. 


198  Quarks'  Emblems. 

The  curious  penman,  having  trimm'd  his  page 

With  the  dead  language  of  his  dabbled  quill, 
Lets  fall  a  heedless  drop,  then  in  a  rage 
Cashiers  the  fruits  of  his  unlucky  skill ; 
E'en  so  my  pregnant  soul  in  th'  infant  bud 
Of  her  best  thoughts  show'rs  down  a  coal-black  flood 
Of  unadvised  ills,  and  cancels  all  her  good. 

Sometimes  a  sudden  flash  of  sacred  heat 

Warms  my  chill  soul,  and  sets  my  thoughts  in  frame  ; 
But  soon  that  fire  is  shoulder'd  from  her  seat 
By  lustful  Cupid's  much  inferior  flame. 

I  feel  two  flames,  and  yet  no  flame  entire  ; 
Thus  are  the  mongrel  thoughts  of  mixt  desire 
Consum'd  between  that  heav'nly  and  this  earthly  fire. 

Sometimes  my  trash-disdaining  thoughts  outpass 

The  common  period  of  terrene  conceit ; 
O  then  methinks  I  scorn  the  thing  I  was, 
Whilst  I  stand  ravish'd  at  my  new  estate : 
But  when  the  Icarian  wings  of  my  desire 
Feel  but  the  warmth  of  their  own  native  fire, 

0  then  they  melt  and  plunge  within  their  wonted  mire. 

1  know  the  nature  of  my  wav'ring  mind  ; 

I  know  the  frailty  of  my  fleshly  will  : 
/My  passion  's  eagle-ey'd  ;  my  judgment  blind  ; 
I  know  what 's  good,  and  yet  make  choice  of  ill. 
When  the  ostrich  wings  of  my  desires  shall  be 
So  dull,  they  cannot  mount  the  least  degree, 
Yet  grant  my  sole  desire,  but  of  desiring  thee. 


Oneirics  Emblems.  i  i  i 

S.  Bern.  Med.  ix. 
My  heart  is  a  vain  heart,  ;i  vagabond  and  instable  heart  ; 
while  it  is  led   by  its  own  judgment,  and  wanting  divine 

counsel,  cannot  subsist  in  itself;  and  whilst  it  divers  ways 
scckcth  rest,  findcth  none,  but  remaineth  miserable  through 
labour,  and  void  of  peace:  it  agreeth  not  with  itself,  it  dis- 
scnteth  from  itself;  it  altereth  resolutions,  changeth  the  judg- 
ment, framcth  new  thoughts,  pulleth  down  the  old,  and 
buildeth  them  up  again :  it  willeth  and  willeth  not ;  and 
never  remaineth  in  the  same  state. 

S.  August,  de  Verb.  Apost. 
When    it  would,   it  cannot ;    because  when    it   might,   it 
would   not :    therefore    by  an    evil   will    man    lost   his   good 
power. 

Epig.  i. 
My  soul,  how  are  thy  thoughts  disturb'd,  confin'd, 
Enlarg'd  betwixt  thy  members  and  thy  mind  ! 
Fix  here  or  there  ;  thy  doubt-depending  cause 
Can  ne'er  expect  one  verdict  'twixt  two  laws. 


Zvi 


O  that  my  ways  were  directed  to  keep  thy  statutes  ! — Psalm 

cxix.  5. 

TlIUS  T,  the  object  of  the  world's  disdain, 

With  pilgrim  face  surround  the  weary  earth  ; 

I  only  relish  what  the  world  counts  vain  ; 

Her  mirth's  my  grief;  her  sullen  grief  my  mirth  ; 
Her  light  my  darkness  ;  and  her  truth  my  error. 

Her  freedom  is  my  gaol ;  and  her  delight  my  terror. 

Fond  earth !  proportion  not  my  seeming  love 

To  my  long  stay  ;  let  not  my  thoughts  deceive  thee  ; 

Thou  art  my  prison,  and  my  home 's  above  ; 
My  life 's  a  preparation  but  to  leave  thee  : 

Like  one  that  seeks  a  door,  I  walk  about  thee  : 

With  thee  I  cannot  live  ;  I  cannot  live  without  thee. 


The  world 's  a  lab'rinth,  whose  anfractuous  ways 
Are  all  compos'd  of  rubs  and  crook'd  meanders  : 

No  resting  here  ;  he 's  hurried  back  that  stays 

A  thought ;  and  he  that  goes  unguided,  wanders  : 
Her  way  is  dark,  her  path  untrod,  unev'n  ; 

So  hard 's  the  way  from  earth  ;  so  hard  's  the  way  to  Heav'n. 


202  Quarks'  Emblems. 

This  gyring  lab'rinth  is  betrench'd  about 

On  either  hand  with  streams  of  sulph'rous  fire, 

Streams  closely  sliding,  erring  in  and  out, 
But  seeming  pleasant  to  the  fond  descrier  ; 

Where,  if  his  footsteps  trust  their  own  invention, 

He  falls  without  redress,  and  sinks  without  dimension. 

Where  shall  I  seek  a  guide  ?  where  shall  I  meet 

Some  lucky  hand  to  lead  my  trembling  paces  ? 
What  trusty  lanthorn  will  direct  my  feet 

To  'scape  the  danger  of  these  dang'rous  places  ? 
What  hopes  have  I  to  pass  without  a  guide  ? 
Where  one  gets  safely  through,  a  thousand  fall 
beside. 

An  unrequested  star  did  gently  slide 

Before  the  wise  men  to  a  greater  light ; 
Backsliding  Isr'el  found  a  double  guide  ; 
A  pillar  and  a  cloud  ;  by  day,  by  night : 
Yet  in  my  desp'rate  dangers,  which  be  far 
More  great  than  theirs,  I  have  no  pillar,  cloud,  nor 
star. 

O  that  the  pinions  of  a  clipping  dove 

Would  cut  my  passage  through  the  empty  air ; 
Mine  eyes  being  seal'd,  how  would  I  mount  above 
The  reach  of  danger  and  forgotten  care  ! 

My  backward  eyes  should  ne'er  commit  that 
fault, 
Whose  lasting  guilt  should  build  a  monument  of  salt. 


Quartet  Emblems, 

Great  God,  that  art  the  Rowing  spring  of  light, 
Enrich  mine  eyes  with  thy  refulgent  ray  : 

Thou  art  my  path  ;  direct  my  steps  aright ; 
I  have  n^  other  light,  no  other  way  : 

I'll  trust  my  God,  and  him  alone  pursue; 
His  law  shall  be  my  path  ;  his  heavenly  light,  my  clue. 

S.  August.  Soliloq.  Cap.  iv. 
O  LORD  ;  Who  art  the  light,  the  way,  the  truth,  the 
life  ;  in  whom  there  is  no  darkness,  error,  vanity,  nor  death  : 
the  light,  without  which  there  is  darkness  ;  the  way,  without 
which  there  is  wandering  ;  the  truth,  without  which  there  is 
error  ;  the  life,  without  which  there  is  death  :  say,  LORD,  let 
there  be  light,  and  I  shall  see  light,  and  eschew  darkness  ; 
I  shall  see  the  way,  and  avoid  wandering  ;  I  shall  see  the 
truth,  and  shun  error ;  I  shall  see  life,  and  escape  death  : 
illuminate,  O  illuminate  my  blind  soul,  which  sitteth  in  dark- 
ness, and  the  shadow  of  death  ;  and  direct  my  feet  in  the  way 
of  peace. 

Epig.  2. 
Pilgrim,  trudge  on  :  what  makes  thy  soul  complain, 
Crowns  thy  complaint :  the  way  to  rest  is  pain  : 
The  road  to  resolution  lies  by  doubt : 
The  next  way  home 's  the  farthest  way  about. 


!5?S# 


\ 


%*_? 


Hold  up  my  goings  in  thy  paths,  that  my  footsteps  slip  not 
Psalm  xvii.  5. 

WHENE'ER  the  old  exchange  of  profit  rings 
Her  silver  saints-bell  of  uncertain  gains  ; 
My  merchant-soul  can  stretch  both  legs  and  wings, 
How  I  can  run,  and  take  unwearied  pains  ! 
The  charms  of  profit  are  so  strong,  that  I, 
Who  wanted  legs  to  go,  find  wings  to  fly. 

If  time-beguiling  pleasure  but  advance 

Her  lustful  trump,  and  blow  her  bold  alarms, 
0  how  my  sportful  soul  can  frisk  and  dance, 
And  hug  that  siren  in  her  twined  arms  ! 

The  sprightly  voice  of  sinew-strength'ning  pleasure 
Can  lend  my  bedrid  soul  both  legs  and  leisure. 

If  blazing  honour  chance  to  fill  my  veins 

With  flatt'ring  warmth,  and  flash  of  courtly  fire, 
My  soul  can  take  a  pleasure  in  her  pains  : 
My  lofty  strutting  steps  disdain  to  tire  ; 
My  antic  knees  can  turn  upon  the  hinges 
Of  compliment,  and  screw  a  thousand  cringes. 


206  Quarks'  Emblems. 

But  when  I  come  to  thee,  my  God,  that  art 

The  royal  mine  of  everlasting  treasure, 
The  real  honour  of  my  better  part, 

And  living  fountain  of  eternal  pleasure, 

How  nerveless  are  my  limbs  !    how  faint  and 

slow! 
I  have  no  wings  to  fly,  nor  legs  to  go. 

So  when  the  streams  of  swift-foot  Rhine  convey 

Her  upland  riches  to  the  Belgic  shore, 
The  idle  vessel  slides  the  wat'ry  way, 
Without  the  blast  or  tug  of  wind  or  oar : 
Her  slipp'ry  keel  divides  the  silver  foam 
With  ease  ;  so  facile  is  the  way  from  home ! 

But  when  the  home-bound  vessel  turns  her  sails 

Against  the  breast  of  the  resisting  stream, 
O  then  she  slugs  ;  nor  sail,  nor  oar  prevails  ! 
The  stream  is  sturdy,  and  her  tide 's  extreme  : 
Each  stroke  is  loss,  and  ev'ry  tug  is  vain  : 
A  boat-length's  purchase  is  a  league  of  pain. 

Great  ALL  IN  ALL,  thou  art  my  rest,  my  home ; 

My  way  is  tedious,  and  my  steps  are  slow : 
Reach  forth  thy  helpful  hand,  or  bid  me  come ; 
I  am  thy  child,  O  teach  thy  child  to  go : 
Conjoin  thy  sweet  commands  to  my  desire, 
And  I  will  venture,  though  I  fall  or  tire. 


Oiuults  Emblems. 


juy 


S.  A i  (,i  ST.  Ser.  xv.  de  Verb.  Apost 
He  always  displeased  at  what  thou  art,  if  thou  desirest 
to  attain  to  what  thou  ait  not  :  for  where  thou  hast  pleased 
thyself,  there  thou  abidest  But  if  thou  sayest,  I  have 
enough,  thou  perishest :  always  add,  always  walk,  always 
proceed;  neither  stand  still,  nor  go  back,  nor  deviate:  he 
that  standeth  still  proceedeth  not ;  he  gocth  back  that  con- 
tinueth  not ;  he  deviateth,  that  revolteth  ;  he  goeth  better 
that  creepeth  in  his  way  than  he  that  runneth  out  of  his 
way. 

Epic.  3. 
Fear  not,  my  soul,  to  lose  for  want  of  cunning  ; 
Weep  not ;  Heav'n  is  not  ahvays  got  by  running  : 
Thy  thoughts  are  swift,  although  thy  legs  be  slow  ; 
True  love  will  creep,  not  having  strength  to  go. 


Wy  flesh  trembleth  for  fear  of  thee;  and  I  am  afraid  of  thy 
judgments. — Psalm  cxix.  120. 


LET  others  boast  of  luck,  and  go  their  ways 

With  their  fair  game  ;  know,  vengeance  seldom  play 

To  be  too  forward,  but  cloth  wisely  frame 

Her  backward  tables  for  an  after-game  : 

She  gives  thee  leave  to  venture  many  a  blot  ; 

And,  for  her  own  advantage,  hits  thee  not  : 

But  when  her  pointed  tables  are  made  fair, 

That  she  be  ready  for  thee,  then  beware  ; 

Then,  if  a  necessary  blot  be  set, 

She  hits  thee  ;  wins  the  game  ;  perchance  the  set  : 

If  prosp'rous  chances  make  thy  casting  high, 

Be  wisely  temp'rate  ;  cast  a  serious  eye 

On  after  dangers,  and  keep  back  thy  game  ; 

Too  forward  seed-times  make  thy  harvest  lame. 

If  left-hand  fortune  give  thee  left-hand  chances, 

Be  wisely  patient ;  let  not  envious  glances 

Repine,  to  view  thy  gamester's  heap  so  fair  ; 

The  hindmost  hound  oft  takes  the  doubline  hare. 


Quarks'  Emblems. 

The  world's  great  dice  are  false  ;  sometimes  they  go 

Extremely  high,  sometimes  extremely  low  : 

Of  all  her  gamesters,  he  that  plays  the  least, 

Lives  most  at  ease,  plays  most  secure  and  best : 

The  way  to  win,  is  to  play  fair,  and  swear 

Thyself  a  servant  to  the  crown  of  fear  : 

Fear  is  the  primer  of  a  gamester's  skill : 

Who  fears  not  bad,  stands  most  unarm'd  to  ill. 

The  ill  that 's  wisely  fear'd,  is  half  withstood  ; 

And  fear  of  bad  is  the  best  foil  to  good. 

True  fear 's  th'  Elixir,  which  in  days  of  old 

Turn'd  leaden  crosses  into  crowns  of  gold  : 

The  world 's  the  tables  ;  stakes,  eternal  life  ; 

The  gamesters,  Heav'n  and  I  ;  unequal  strife  ! 

My  fortunes  are  the  dice,  whereby  I  frame 

My  indisposed  life  :  this  life 's  the  game  ; 

My  sins  are  several  blots  ;  the  lookers-on 

Are  angels  ;  and  in  death  the  game  is  done. 

LORD,  I  'm  a  bungler,  and  my  game  doth  grow 

Still  more  and  more  unshap'd  ;  my  dice  run  low  : 

The  stakes  are  great  ;  my  careless  blots  are  many  : 

And  yet  thou  passest  by  and  hitt'st  not  any  : 

Thou  art  too  strong ;  and  I  have  none  to  guide  me 

With  the  least  jog  ;  the  lookers-on  deride  me  : 

It  is  a  conquest  undeserving  thee, 

To  win  a  stake  from  such  a  worm  as  me  : 

I  have  no  more  to  lose  ;  if  we  persever, 

'Tis  lost :  and  that  once  lost,  I'  m  lost  for  ever. 

LORD,  wink  at  faults,  and  be  not  too  severe, 

And  I  will  play  my  game  with  greater  fear  ; 

O  give  me  fear,  ere  fear  has  past  her  date  : 

Whose  blot  being  hit,  then  fears,  fears  then  too  late. 


( luarlcs1  Emblems. 


21  i 


S.  Bern.  Ser.  liv.  in  ( .'.int. 
There  is  nothing  so  effectual  to  obtain  grace,  to  retain 
grace,  and  to  regain  grace,  as  always  to  be  found  before 
God  not  over  wise,  but  to  fear:  happy  art  thou,  if  thy 
heart  be  replenished  with  three  fears;  a  fear  fur  received 
grace,  a  greater  fear  for  lost  grace,  a  greatest  fear  to  recover 


S.  At  I  HJST.  super  Psal, 
Present  fear  begettcth  eternal  security:  fear  GOD,  which 
is  above  all,  and  no  need  to  fear  man  at  all. 

Epig.  4. 
LORD,  shall  we  grumble  when  thy  flames  do  scourge  us  ? 
Our  sins  breathe  fire  ;  that  fire  returns  to  purge  us. 
LORD,  what  an  alchymist  art  thou,  whose  skill 
Transmutes  to  perfect  good  from  perfect  ill ! 


p  2 


Turn  away,  mine  eyes  from  beholding  vanity. —  Ps  \i.\i  <  \i\  37 

HOW  Like  the  threads  of  flax 
That  touch  the  flame,  are  my  inflam'd  desires  ! 

How  like  to  yielding  wax, 
My  soul  dissolves  before  these  wanton  fires  ! 

The  fire  but  touch'd,  the  flame  but  felt, 

Like  flax,  I  burn  ;  like  wax,  I  melt. 

O  how  this  flesh  doth  draw 
My  fetter'd  soul  to  that  deceitful  fire  ! 

And  how  the  eternal  law 
Is  baffled  by  the  law  of  my  desire  ! 

How  truly  bad,  how  seeming  good, 

Are  all  the  laws  of  flesh  and  blood  ! 


O  wretched  state  of  men, 
The  height  of  whose  ambition  is  to  borrow 

What  must  be  paid  again, 
With  griping  int'rest  of  the  next  day's  .sorrow  ! 

How  wild  his  thoughts  !   how  apt  to  range  ! 

How  apt  to  vary  !  apt  to  change  ! 


214  Quarks'  Emblems. 

How  intricate  and  nice 
Is  man's  perplexed  way  to  man's  desire  ; 

Sometimes  upon  the  ice 
He  slips,  and  sometimes  falls  into  the  fire  ; 

His  progress  is  extreme  and  bold, 

Or  very  hot,  or  very  cold. 

The  common  food  he  doth 
Sustain  his  soul-tormenting  thoughts  withal, 

Is  honey  in  his  mouth 
To-night,  and  in  his  heart,  to-morrow,  gall  ; 

'Tis  oftentimes,  within  an  hour, 

Both  very  sweet  and  very  sour. 

If  sweet  Corinna  smile, 
A  Heav'n  of  joys  breaks  down  into  his  heart  : 

Corinna  frown  awhile, 
Hell's  torments  are  but  copies  of  his  smart : 

Within  a  lustful  heart  doth  dwell 

A  seeming  Heav'n,  a  very  hell. 

Thus  worthless,  vain,  and  void 
Of  comfort,  are  the  fruits  of  earth's  employment, 

Which,  ere  they  be  enjoy'd, 
Distract  us,  and  destroy  us  in  th'  enjoyment  ; 

These  be  the  pleasures  that  are  priz'd, 

When  Heav'n's  cheap  penn' worth  stands  despis'd. 

LORD,  quench  these  hasty  flashes, 
Which  dart  as  lightning  from  the  thund'ring  skies, 

And  ev'ry  minute  dashes 
Against  the  wanton  windows  of  mine  eyes  : 


Quarlef  Emblems.  2  i  5 

Lord,  close  the  casement,  whilst  I  stand 
Behind  the  curtain  of  tin-  hand. 


S.  A.UGT  ST.  Soliloq.  Cap.  iv. 
O  thou  sun,  that   illuminateth  both  Heaven  and  earth! 

woe  be  unto  those  eyes  which  do  not  behold  thee:  woe  be 
unto  those  blind  eyes  which  cannot  behold  thee:  woe  be 
unto  those  which  turn  away  their  eyes  that  the}'  will  not 
behold  thee:  woe  be  unto  those  that  turn  away  their  eyes 
that  they  may  behold  vanity. 

S.  CilRVS.  Sup.  Mat.  xix. 
What  is  the  evil  woman  but  the  enemy  of  friendship,  an 
avoidable  pain,  a  necessary  mischief,  a  natural  temptation, 
a* desirable  calamity,  a  domestic  danger,  a  delectable  incon- 
venience, and  the  nature  of  evil,  painted  over  with  the  colour 
of  good  ? 

EPIG.  5. 
Tis  vain,  great  God,  to  close  mine  eyes  from  ill, 
When  I  resolve  to  keep  the  old  man  still  ; 
My  rambling  heart  must  cov'nant  first  with  thee, 
Or  none  can  pass  betwixt  mine  eye  and  me. 


<*t>^ 


-  m:^:k: 


i 


If  I  have  found  favour  in  thy  sight,  and  if  it  please  the  king;  let 
my  life  bo  given  meat  my  petition. — ESTHER  VII.  3. 


THOU  art  the  great  Ahasuerus,  whose  command 

Doth  stretch  from  pole  to  pole  ;  the  world's  thy  land 

Rebellious  Vashti  's  the  corrupted  will, 

Which,  being  call'd,  refuses  to  fulfil 

Thy  just  command  ;  Esther,  whose  tears  condole 

The  razed  city,  is  the  regen'rate  soul  ; 

A  captive  maid,  whom  thou  wilt  please  to  grace 

With  nuptial  honours  in  stout  Vashti's  place  : 

Her  kinsman,  whose  unbended  knee  did  thwart 

Proud  Hainan's  glory,  is  the  fleshly  part  ; 

The  sober  eunuch,  that  recall'd  to  mind 

The  new-built  gibbet  (Haman  had  divin'd 

For  his  own  ruin),  fifty  cubits  high, 

Is  lustful  thought-controlling  chastity  ; 

Insulting  Haman  is  that  fleshly  lust 

Whose  red-hot  fury,  for  a  season,  must 

Triumph  in  pride,  and  study  how  to  tread 

On  Mordecai,  till  royal  Esther  plead. 


2i8  Quarks  Emblems. 

Great  King,  thy  sent-for  Vashti  will  not  come  ; 
O  let  the  oil  of  the  bless'd  virgin's  womb 
Cleanse  my  poor  Esther  ;  look,  O  look  upon  her 
With  gracious  eyes  ;  and  let  thy  beam  of  honour 
So  scour  her  captive  stains,  that  she  may  prove 
An  holy  object  of  thy  heav'nly  love  : 
Anoint  her  with  the  spikenard  of  thy  graces, 
Then  try  the  sweetness  of  her  chaste  embraces  : 
Make  her  the  partner  of  thy  nuptial  bed, 
And  set  thy  royal  crown  upon  her  head  ; 
If  then  ambitious  Haman  chance  to  spend 
His  spleen  on  Mordecai,  that  scorns  to  bend 
The  wilful  stiffness  of  his  stubborn  knee, 
Or  basely  crouch  to  any  lord  but  thee  ; 
If  weeping  Esther  should  prefer  a  groan 
Before  the  high  tribunal  of  thy  throne, 
Hold  forth  the  golden  sceptre,  and  afford 
The  gentle  audience  of  a  gracious  LORD  : 
And  let  thy  royal  Esther  be  possest 
Of  half  thy  kingdom,  at  her  dear  request : 
Curb  lustful  Haman,  him  that  would  disgrace, 
Nay,  ravish  thy  fair  queen  before  thy  face  : 
And  as  proud  Haman  was  himself  ensnar'd 
On  that  self-gibbet  that  himself  prepar'd  ; 
So  nail  my  lust,  both  punishment  and  guilt, 
On  that  dear  cross  that  mine  own  lusts  have  built. 

S.  August,  in  Ep. 
O  holy  Spirit,  always  inspire  me  with  holy  works.    *  Con- 
strain me,  that  I  may  do  :  counsel  me,  that  I  may  love  thee ; 
confirm  me,  that  I  may  hold  thee  ;  conserve  me,  that  I  may 
not  lose  thee. 


Ontirlts  Emblems. 


S.  A.UGI  ST.  Sup.  Joan. 

The  spirit  lusts  where  the  flesh  resteth :  for  as  the  flesh 
is   nourished   with   sweet   things,   the   spirit    is   refreshed    with 

sour. 

Ibidem. 
Wouldest  thou  that  thy  flesh  obey  thy  spirit?   then  let 
thy  spirit  obey  thy  God.     Thou  must  be  governed,  that  thou 
mavest  govern. 

Epic.  6. 
Of  mercy  and  justice  is  thy  kingdom  built  ; 
This  plagues  my  sin,  and  that  removes  my  guilt  ; 
Whene'er  I  sue,  Ahasuerus-like,  decline 
Thy  sceptre  ;  LORD,  say,  half  my  kingdom  's  thine. 


I  EMBLEM   VII.  I    ,* 


( '<>///<•,  ///r  beloved,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  field;  let  us  lodge  in 

the  villages. — Canticles  vii.  i  i. 

Cl)ri<jt\    feouL 

Chr.  COME,  come,  my  clear,  and  let  us  both  retire, 

And  whiff  the  dainties  of  the  fragrant  field  : 
Where  warbling  Phil'mel,  and  the  shrill-mouth' d  choir 
Chaunt  forth  their  raptures  ;  where  the  turtle  builds 
Her  lovely  nest  ;  and  where  the  new-born  brier 
Breathes  forth  the  sweetness  that  her  April  yields  : 
Come,  come,  my  lovely  fair,  and  let  us  try 
These  rural  delicates  ;  where  thou  and  I 
May  melt  in  private  flames,  and  fear  no  stander-by. 

Soul.  My  heart's  eternal  joy,  in  lieu  of  whom 

The  earth's  a  blast,  and  all  the  world  's  a  bubble  ; 
Our  city-mansion  is  the  fairest  home, 

But  country  sweets  are  ting'd  with  lesser  trouble  : 
Let 's  try  them  both,  and  choose  the  better  ;  come  ; 
A  change  in  pleasure  makes  the  pleasure  double  ; 
On  thy  commands  depends  my  go  or  tarry, 
I  '11  stir  with  Martha,  or  I  '11  stay  with  Mary  ; 
Our  hearts  are  firmly  fit,  altho'  our  pleasures  vary. 


222  Quarks  Emblems. 

Chr.  Our  country-mansion  (situate  on  high) 
With  various  objects,  still  renews  delight ; 
Her  arched  roof's  of  unstain'd  ivory  : 

Her  walls  of  fiery-sparkling  chrysolite  ; 
Her  pavement  is  of  hardest  porphyry  ; 

Her  spacious  windows  are  all  glaz'd  with  bright 
And  flaming  carbuncles  ;  no  need  require 
Titan's  faint  rays,  or  Vulcan's  feeble  fire  ; 
And  ev'ry  gate 's  a  pearl  ;  and  ev'ry  pearl  entire. 

Soul.  Fool  that  I   was  !    how  were  my  thoughts 
deceiv'd  ! 
How  falsely  was  my  fond  conceit  possest ! 
I  took  it  for  an  hermitage,  but  pav'd 

And  daub'd  with  neighb'ring  dirt,  and  thatch'd  at 
best. 
Alas  !  I  ne'er  expected  more  nor  crav'd 
A  turtle  ;  hop'd  but  for  a  turtle's  nest  : 

Come,  come,  my  dear,  and  let  no  idle  stay 
Neglect  th'  advantage  of  the  head-strong  day  ; 
How  pleasure  grates,  that  feels  the  curb  of  dull  delay ! 

Chr.  Come,  then,  my  joy  ;  let  our  divided  paces 

Conduct  us  to  our  fairest  territory  ; 
O  there  we  '11  twine  our  souls  in  sweet  embraces  ; 

Soul.  And  in  thine  arms  I  '11  tell  my  passion's  story  : 
Chr.  O  there  I  '11  crown  thy  head  with  all  my  graces  ; 

Soul.  And  all  these  graces  shall  reflect  thy  glory  : 
Chr.  O  there  I  '11  feed  thee  with  celestial  manna  ; 

I  '11  be  thy  Elkanah.     Soul.  And  I,  thy  Hannah. 
Chr.  I'll  sound  my  trump  of  joy.     Soul.  And  I'll  resound 
Hosannah. 


Quaries'  Embietns,  22^ 

s.  Bern, 
()  blessed  contemplation  !  the  death  <>l  vices,  and  the  life 
of  virtues!  thee  the  law  and  the  prophets  admire:  \\li<>  ever 
attained  perfection,  it  not  by  thee?     ()  blessed  solitude,  the 

magazine  of  celestial  treasure!  by  thee,  things  earthly  and 
transitory  are  changed  into  heavenly  and  eternal. 

S.  Bern,  in  Ep. 

Happy  is  that  house,  and   blessed   is  that  congregation, 
where  Martha  still  complaineth  of  Mary. 

Epig.  ;. 
Mechanic  soul,  thou  must  not  only  do 
With  Martha,  but  with  Mary  ponder  too  : 
Happy  's  that  house  where  these  fair  sisters  vary  ; 
But  most,  when  Martha  's  reconcil'd  to  Mary. 


I    I     KMHI.KM  VIH.     !  I  rtV 


raS 


&■& 


^J> 


Draw  me;  we  will  run  after  thee  because  of  the  savour  of  thy 

good  ointments. — CANTICLES  I.  3,  4. 

TlIUS,  like  a  lump  of  the  corrupted  mass, 
I  lie  secure,  long  lost  before  I  was  : 

And  like  a  block,  beneath  whose  burthen  lies 

That  undiscover'd  worm  that  never  dies, 
I  have  no  will  to  rouse,  I  have  no  power  to  rise. 


Can  stinking  Lazarus  compound  or  strive 
With  death's  entangling  fetters,  and  revive  ? 

Or  can  the  water-buried  axe  implore 

A  hand  to  raise  it,  or  itself  restore, 
And  from  her  sandy  deeps  approach  the  dry-foot  shore  ? 

So  hard  's  the  task  for  sinful  flesh  and  blood 
To  lend  the  smallest  step  to  what  is  good, 

My  God  !   I  cannot  move  the  least  degree  : 

Ah  !  if  but  only  those  that  active  be, 
None  should  thy  glory  see,  none  should  thy  glory  see. 

^> 


226  Quarks  Emblems. 

But,  if  the  potter  please  t'  inform  the  clay  : 
Or  some  strong  hand  remove  the  block  away  : 

Their  lowly  fortunes  soon  are  mounted  higher  ; 

That  proves  a  vessel,  which  before  was  mire  ; 
And  this,  being  hewn,  may  serve  for  better  use  than 
fire. 

And  if  that  life-restoring  voice  command 

Dead  Laz'rus  forth  ;  or  that  great  Prophet's  hand 

Should  charm  the  sullen  waters,  and  begin 

To  beckon,  or  to  dart  a  stick  but  in, 
Dead  Laz'rus  must  revive,  and  the  axe  must  float 
again. 

LORD,  as  I  am,  I  have  no  pow'r  at  all 
To  hear  thy  voice,  or  echo  to  thy  call  ; 

The  gloomy  clouds  of  mine  own  guilt  benight  me  ; 

Thy  glorious  beams,  not  dainty  sweets,  invite  me  ; 
They  neither  can  direct,  nor  these  at  all  delight  me. 

See  how  my  sin-bemangled  body  lies, 
Not  having  pow'r  to  will,  nor  will  to  rise  ! 
Shine  home  upon  thy  creature,  and  inspire 
My  lifeless  will  with  thy  regen'rate  fire  ; 
The  first  degree  to  do,  is  only  to  desire. 

Give  me  the  pow'r  to  will,  the  will  to  do  ; 

O  raise  me  up,  and  I  will  strive  to  go  : 

Draw  me,  O  draw  me  with  thy  treble  twist, 
That  have  no  pow'r  but  merely  to  resist ; 

O  lend  me  strength  to  do,  and  then  command  thy 
list. 


.  nits  Emblems*  227 

My  soul  's  a  clock,  whose  wheels  [for  want  of  use 
Ami  winding  up,  being  subject  to  th'  abuse 

Of  eating  rust,)  want  vigour  to  fulfil 

Her  twelve  hours'  task,  and  show  her  Maker's  skill, 
Hut  idly  sleeps  unmov'd,  and  standeth  vainly  still. 

(ireat  (i<>D,  it  is  thy  work,  and  therefore  good, 
If  thou  he  pleas'd  to  cleanse  it  with  thy  blood, 
Anil  wind  it  up  with  thy  soul-moving  keys, 
Her  busy  wheels  shall  serve  thee  all  her  days  ; 
Her  hand  shall  point  thy  pow'r,  her  hammer  strike 
thy  j) raise. 


S.  BERN.  Ser.  xxi.  in  Cant. 
Let  us  run,  let  us  run  but  in  the  savour  of  thy  ointment, 
not  in  the  confidence  of  our  merits,  not  in  the  greatness  of 
our  strength  :  we  trust  to  run  but  in  the  multitude  of  thy 
mercies,  for  though  we  run  and  are  willing,  it  is  not  in  him 
that  willeth,  nor  in  him  that  runneth,  but  in  God  that  showeth 
mercy.  O  let  thy  mercy  return,  and  we  will  run  :  thou,  like 
a  giant,  runnest  by  thy  own  power  ;  we,  unless  thy  ointment 
breathe  upon  us,  cannot  run. 

Epig.  8. 
Look  not,  my  watch,  being  once  repair'd,  to  stand 
Expecting  motion  from  thy  Maker's  hand. 
He's  wound  thee  up,  and  cleans'd  thy  clogs  with  blocd  : 
If  now  thy  wheels  stand  still,  thou  art  not  good. 


> 


.« 


k 


. 


>■ ,  - ' 


EMBLEM   IX 


'•'     'I      ' 


| 

r 


()  that  thou  wert  as  my  brotJtery  that  sucked  the  breasts  of  tin 
mother!    when    I  should  find  thee  without>    I  would  kiss 

thee. — Canticles  \  hi.  i. 

Come,  come,  my  blessed  infant,  and  immure  thee 

Within  the  temple  of  my  sacred  arms  ; 
Secure  mine  arms,   mine  arms  shall   then  secure 
thee 
From  Herod's  fury,  or  the  high  priest's  harms 
Or  if  thy  danger'd  life  sustain  a  loss, 
My  folded  arms  shall  turn  thy  dying  cross. 


Hut  ah  !  what  savage  tyrant  can  behold 

The  beauty  of  so  sweet  a  face  as  this  is, 
And  not  himself  be  by  himself  controll'd, 
And  change  his  fury  to  a  thousand  kisses  ? 
One  smile  of  thine  is  worth  more  mines  ot 

treasure 
Than   there  were   myriads   in   the  days  of 
Caesar. 


'.$0  Quarks  Emblems. 

O  had  the  tetrarch,  as  he  knew  thy  birth, 

So  known  thy  stock,  he  had  not  thought  to  paddle 
Tn  thy  dear  blood  ;  but  prostrate  on  the  earth, 
Had  vail'd  his  crown  before  thy  royal  cradle, 
And  laid  the  sceptre  of  his  glory  down, 
And  begg'd  a  heav'nly  for  an  earthly  crown. 

Illustrious  babe  !  how  is  thy  handmaid  grae'd 
With  a  rich  armful !  how  dost  thou  decline 
Thy  majesty,  that  wert  so  late  embrae'd 

In  thy  great  Father's  arms,  and  now  in  mine  ! 
How  humbly  gracious  art  thou,  to  refresh 
Me  with  thy  spirit,  and  assume  my  flesh ! 

But  must  the  treason  of  a  traitor's  hail 

Abuse  the  sweetness  of  these  ruby  lips  ? 
Shall  marble-hearted  cruelty  assail 

These  alabaster  sides  with  knotted  whips  ? 
And  must  these  smiling  roses  entertain 
The  blows  of  scorn,  and  flirts  of  base  disdain  ? 

Ah  !  must  these  dainty  little  springs,  that  twine 

So  fast  about  my  neck,  be  piere'd  and  torn 
With  ragged  nails  ?  and  must  these  brows  resign 
Their  crown  of  glory  for  a  crown  of  thorn  ? 
Ah  !  must  the  blessed  infant  taste  the  pain 
Of  death's  injurious  pangs  ;  nay,  worse,  be  slain  ? 

Sweet  babe  !  at  what  dear  rates  do  wretched  I 
Commit  a  sin  !    LORD,  ev'ry  sin  's  a  dart ; 

And  ev'ry  trespass  lets  a  jay'lin  fly  ; 

And  ev'ry  jav'lin  wounds  thy  bleeding  heart : 


Quarles  Emblems, 

Pardon,  sweet  babe,  what  I  have  (\^\\r  amiss ; 
And  seal  that  granted  pardon  with  a  kiss. 


S.  B(  >NAVENT.  Soliloq.  Cap.  i. 
0  sweet  Jesu,  I  knew  not  that  thy  kisses  were  so  sweet, 
nor  thy  society  so  delectable,  nor  thy  attraction  so  virtuous: 
for  when  I  love  thee,  I  am  clean  ;  when  I  touch  thee,  I  am 
chaste  ;  when  I  receive  thee,  I  am  a  virgin  :  O  most  sweet 
Jesu,  thy  embraces  defile  not,  but  cleanse  ;  thy  attraction 
polluteth  not,  but  sanctifieth  :  0  Jesu,  the  fountain  of  uni- 
versal sweetness,  pardon  me  that  I  believed  so  late  that  so 
much  sweetness  is  in  thy  embraces. 

Epig.  9. 
My  burden  \s  greatest ;  let  not  Atlas  boast : 
Impartial  reader,  judge  which  bears  the  most : 
He  bears  but  Heav'n,  my  folded  arms  sustain 
Heav'n's  Maker,  whom  Heav'n's  Heav'n  cannot  contain. 


S&& 


ss* 


By  night  on  my  bed  I  sought  him  idiom  my  soul  loveth  :  I 
sought  him,  but  I  found  him  not. — CANTICLES  in.  i. 


THE  learned  Cynic  having  lost  the  way 

To  honest  men,  did,  in  the  height  of  day, 

By  taper-light,  divide  his  steps  about 

The  peopled  streets,  to  find  this  dainty  out  ; 

But  fail'd  :  the  Cynic  search'd  not  where  he  ought 

The  thing  he  sought  for  was  not  where  he  sought. 

The  wise  men's  task  seem'd  harder  to  be  done  ; 

The  wise  men  did  by  star-light  seek  the  Sun, 

And  found  :    the  wise  men  search'd  it  where  they 

ought ; 
The  thing  they  hop'd  to  find  was  where  they 

sought. 
One  seeks  his  wishes  where  he  should  ;  but  then 
Perchance  he  seeks  not  as  he  should,  nor  when. 
Another  searches  when  he  should  ;   but  there 
He  fails  ;  not  seeking  as  he  should,  nor  where, 


234  Quarks  Emblems. 

How  often  have  my  wild  affections  led 

My  wasted  soul  to  this  my  widow'd  bed, 

To  seek  my  lover,  whom  my  soul  desires  ! 

(I  speak  not,  Cupid,  of  thy  wanton  fires  : 

Thy  fires  are  all  but  dying  sparks  to  mine  ; 

My  flames  are  full  of  Heav'n,  and  all  divine.) 

How  often  have  I  sought  this  bed  by  night, 

To  find  that  greater  by  this  lesser  light ! 

How  oft  have  my  unwitness'd  groans  lamented 

Thy  dearest  absence  !  ah  !  how  often  vented 

The  bitter  tempest  of  despairing  breath, 

And  toss'd  my  soul  upon  the  waves  of  death  ! 

How  often  has  my  melting  heart  made  choice 

Of  silent  tears  (tears  louder  than  a  voice) 

To  plead  my  grief,  and  woo  thy  absent  ear ! 

And  yet  thou  wilt  not  come,  thou  wilt  not  hear. 

O,  is  thy  wonted  love  become  so  cold  ? 

Or  do  mine  eyes  not  seek  thee  where  they  should  ? 

Why  do  I  seek  thee  if  thou  art  not  here  ? 

Or  find  thee  not,  if  thou  art  ev'rywhere  ? 

I  see  my  error ;  'tis  not  strange  I  could  not 

Find  out  my  love  ;  I  sought  him  where  I  should  not. 

Thou  art  not  found  on  downy  beds  of  ease  ; 

Alas !  thy  music  strikes  on  harder  keys  : 

Nor  art  thou  found  by  that  false  feeble  light 

Of  nature's  candle  ;  our  Egyptian  night 

Is  more  than  common  darkness  ;  nor  can  we 

Expect  a  morning  but  what  breaks  from  thee. 

Well  may  my  empty  bed  bewail  thy  loss, 

When  thou  art  lodg'd  upon  thy  shameful  cross  : 

If  thou  refuse  to  share  a  bed  with  me, 

We'll  never  part,  I  '11  share  a  cross  with  thee. 


Quarks*  Emblems. 


Ansei  m.  iii  Protolog.  i. 
Lord,  it"  thou  art  not  present  where  shall  I  sick  thee 
absent?  if  everywhere,  why  do  I  not  see  thee  present?  thou 
dwellest  in  light  inaccessible  ;  and  where  is  that  inaccessible 
light  ?  or  how  shall  I  have  access  to  light  inaccessible  ?  I 
beseech  thee,  LokD,  teach  me  to  seek  thee,  and  show  thyself 
to  the  seeker;  because  I  can  neither  seek  thee,  unless  thou 
teach  me  ;  nor  find  thee,  unless  thou  show  thyself  to  me  :  let 
me  seek  thee  in  desiring  thee,  and  desire  thee  in  seeking 
thee  :  let  me  find  thee  in  loving  thee,  and  love  thee  in  finding 
thee. 

El'IG.  10. 
Where  should  thou  seek  for  rest,  but  in  thy  bed  ? 
But  now  thy  rest  is  gone,  thy  rest  is  fled  : 
'T  is  vain  to  seek  him  there  :   my  soul,  be  wise  ; 
Go  ask  thy  sins,  they  '11  tell  thee  where  he  lies. 


-, 


/  will  rise,  andgo  about  the  city,  ami  will  seek  him  whom  my  soul 
loveth:  I  sought  him,  but  I  found  him  not. — CANTICLES 

III.  2. 

0  HOW  my  disappointed  soul's  perplex'd  ! 

How  restless  thoughts  swarm  in  my  troubled  breast  ! 
How  vainly  pleas'd  with  hopes,  then  crossly  vext 

With  fears  !  and  how  betwixt  them  both  distrest  ! 
What  place  is  left  unransack'd  ?     Oh  !  where  next 
Shall  I  go  seek  the  author  of  my  rest  ? 

Of  what  bless'd  angel  shall  my  lips  inquire 
The  undiscover'd  way  to  that  entire 
And  everlasting  solace  of  my  heart's  desire  ? 

Look  how  the  stricken  hart,  that  wounded  flies 

O'er  hills  and  dales,  and  seeks  the  lower  grounds 
For  running  streams,  the  whilst  his  weeping  eyes 

Beg  silent  mercy  from  the  foll'wing  hounds  ; 
At  length,  embost,  he  droops,  drops  down,  and  lies 
Beneath  the  burthen  of  his  bleeding  wounds  : 
E'en  so  my  gasping  soul,  dissolv'd  in  tears, 
Doth  search  for  thee,  my  God,  whose  deafen'd  ears 
Leave  me  the  unransom'd  pris'ner  to  my  panic  fears. 


238  Quarlcs  Emblems. 

Where  have  my  busy  eyes  not  pry'd  ?     0  where, 

Of  whom  hath  not  my  threadbare  tongue  demanded  ? 
I  search'd  this  glorious  city  ;  he  's  not  here  : 

I  sought  the  country  ;  she  stands  empty-handed  : 
I  search'd  the  court ;  he  is  a  stranger  there  : 

I  ask'd  the  land  ;  he's  shipp'd  :  the  sea,  he's  landed  : 
I  climb'd  the  air,  my  thoughts  began  t'  aspire  ; 
But  ah  !  the  wings  of  my  too  bold  desire, 
Soaring  too   near  the   sun,   were  sing'd  with  sacred 
fire. 

I  mov'd  the  merchant's  ear,  alas  !  but  he 

Knew  neither  what  I  said,  nor  what  to  say  : 
I  ask'd  the  lawyer,  he  demands  a  fee, 

And  then  demurs  me  with  a  vain  delay : 
I  ask'd  the  schoolman,  his  advice  was  free, 
But  scor'd  me  out  too  intricate  a  way : 

I  ask'd  the  watchman  (best  of  all  the  four), 
Whose  gentle  answer  could  resolve  no  more, 
But  that  he  lately  left  him  at  the  temple  door. 

Thus  having  sought,  and  made  my  great  inquest 

In  ev'ry  place,  and  search'd  in  ev'ry  ear  : 
I  threw  me  on  my  bed  ;  but  ah !  my  rest 

Was  poison'd  with  th'  extremes  of  grief  and  fear  ; 
Where  looking  down  into  my  troubled  breast, 
The  magazine  of  wounds,  I  found  him  there  : 
Let  others  hunt,  and  show  their  sportful  art  ; 
I  wish  to  catch  the  hare  before  she  start, 
As  poachers  use  to  do  ;   Heav'n's  form  's  a  troubled 
heart. 


( hnir/cs'  Emblems, 


S.  AMBROS.  Lib.  iii.  de  Virg 
Christ  is  not  in  the  market,  nor  in  the  streets:  for  Chri  t 
is  peace,  in  the  market  are  strifes:  Christ  is  justice,  in  the 
market  is  iniquity:  Christ  is  a  labourer,  in  the  market  is 
idleness:  Christ  is  charity;  in  the  market  is  slander:  Christ 
is  faith,  in  the  market  is  fraud.  Let  us  not  therefore  seek 
Christ,  where  we  cannot  find  Christ. 

S.  HlERON.  Ser,  ix.  Ep.  xxii.  ad  Eustoch. 

Jesus   is  jealous:    lie  will    not    have   thy   face   seen:    Let 
foolish  virgins  ramble  abroad,  seek  thou  thy  love  at  home. 

Epig.  II. 

What,  lost  thy  love  ?  will  neither  bed  nor  board 
Receive  him  ?  not  by  tears  to  be  implor'd  ? 
It  is  the  ship  that  moves,  and  not  the  coast ; 
I  fear,  I  fear,  my  soul,  't  is  thou  art  lost. 


Have  you  seen  him  whom  my  soul  lovethf     When  I  had passed 

a  little  from  them,  then  I  found  him  ;  I  took  hold  on  him, 
and  Uft  him  not — Canticles  hi.  3,  4. 

WHAT  secret  corner  ?  what  unwonted  way 

Has  'scap'd  the  ransack  of  my  rambling  thought  ? 
The  fox  by  night,  nor  the  dull  owl  by  day, 

Have  never  search'd  those  places  I  have  sought. 
Whilst  they  lamented,  absence  taught  my  breast 
The  rcacl\-  road  to  grief,  without  request  ; 
My  day  had  neither  comfort,  nor  my  night  had  rest. 


I  low  hath  my  unregarded  language  vented 

The  sad  tautologies  of  lavish  passion  ! 
How  often  have  I  languish'd  unlamented  ! 

How  oft  have  I  complain'd,  without  compassion  ! 
I  ask'd  the  city-watch,  but  some  deny'd  me 
The  common  street,  whilst  others  would  misguide 
me  ; 
Some  would  debar  me  ;  some  divert  me  ;  some  deride 
me. 


242  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Mark  how  the  widow' d  turtle,  having  lost 
The  faithful  partner  of  her  royal  heart, 
Stretches  her  feeble  wings  from  coast  to  coast, 
Hunts  ev'ry  path  ;  thinks  ev'ry  shade  doth  part 
Her  absent  love  and  her ;  at  length,  unsped, 
She  re-betakes  her  to  her  lonely  bed, 
And  there  bewails  her  everlasting  widow-head. 

So  when  my  soul  had  progress'd  ev'ry  place, 

That  love  and  dear  affection  could  contrive, 
I  threw  me  on  my  couch,  resolv'd  t'  embrace 
A  death  for  him  in  whom  I  ceas'd  to  live  : 
But  there  injurious  Hymen  did  present 
His  landscape  joys  ;  my  pickled  eyes  did  vent 
Full  streams  of  briny  tears,  tears  never  to  be  spent. 

Whilst  thus  my  sorrow-wasting  soul  was  feeding 

Upon  the  radical  humour  of  her  thought, 
E'en  whilst  mine  eyes  were  blind,  and  heart  was  bleeding, 
He  that  was  sought  unfound,  was  found  unsought : 
As  if  the  sun  should  dart  his  orb  of  light 
Into  the  secrets  of  the  black-brow'd  night : 
E'en  so  appear'd  my  love,  my  soul's  delight. 

O  how  mine  eyes,  now  ravish' d  at  the  sight 

Of  my  bright  sun,  shot  flames  of  equal  fire  ! 
Ah  !  how  my  soul  dissolv'd  with  o'er-delight, 
To  re -enjoy  the  crown  of  chaste  desire  ! 
How  sov'reign  joy  depos'd  and  dispossest 
Rebellious  grief!  and  how  my  ravish'd  breast ! 
But  who  can   express  those   heights,   that  cannot  be 
exprest ! 


Quarks'  Emblems, 

()  how  these  amis,  these  greedy  .inns  did  twine 
Ami  strongly  twist  about  his  yielding  waist ! 
The  sappy  branches  of  the  Thespian  vine 
Ne'er  cling  their  less  beloved  elm  so  fast  ; 

Boast  not  thy  flames,  blind  boy,  thy  feather'd  shot  ; 
Let  Hymen's  easy  snarls  be  quite  forgot ; 
Time   cannot  quench  our  fires,    nor   death   dissolve  our 
knot. 


ORIG.  Mom.  x.  in  Divers. 
O  most  holy  Lord,  and  sweetest  Master,  how  good  art 
thou  to  those  that  are  of  upright  heart,  and  humble  spirit ! 
O  how  blessed  are  the)'  that  seek  thee  with  a  simple  heart ! 
how  happy  that  trust  in  thee  !  It  is  a  most  certain  truth,  that 
thou  lovest  all  that  love  thee,  and  never  forsakest  those  that 
trust  in  thee  :  for,  behold,  thy  love  simply  sought  thee,  and 
undoubtedly  found  thee  :  she  trusted  in  thee,  and  is  not  for- 
saken of  thee,  but  hath  obtained  more  by  thee,  than  she 
expected  from  thee. 

BEDA  in  Cap.  iii.  Cant. 
The  longer  I  was   in  finding  whom    I   sought,  the  more 
earnestly  I  beheld  him  being  found. 

EPIG.  12. 
What  ?  found  him  out  ?  let  strong  embraces  bind  him  ; 
He  '11  fly,  perchance,  where  tears  can  never  find  him  : 
New  sins  will  lose  what  old  repentance  gains. 
Wisdom  not  only  gets,  but  got,  retains. 


It  is  good  for  me  to  draw  near  to  God:  I  have  put  my  trust  u 
the  Lord  God. —  PSALM  LXXIII.  28. 

WHERE  is  that  good,  which  wise  men  please  to  call 
The  chiefest?  doth  there  any  such  befall 
Within  man's  reach  ?  or  is  there  such  a  <jood  at  all  ? 

o 

If  such  there  be,  it  neither  must  expire, 
Nor  change  ;  than  which  there  can  be  nothing  high'i 
Such  good  must  be  the  utter  point  of  man's  desire 

It  is  the  mark,  to  which  all  hearts  must  tend  ; 
Can  be  desired  for  no  other  end, 
Than  for  itself,  on  which  all  other  goods  depend. 

What  may  this  exe'lence  be  ?  doth  it  subsist 
A  real  essence  clouded  in  the  mist 
Of  curious  art,  or  clear  to  ev'ry  eye  that  list  ? 


Or  is  "t  a  tart  idea,  to  procure 
An  ^'gc,  and  keep  the  practic  soul  in  urc, 
Like  that  dear  chymic  dust,  or  puzzling  quadrature  ? 


246  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Where  shall  I  seek  this  good  ?  where  shall  I  find 

This  cath'lic  pleasure,  whose  extremes  may  blind 

My  thoughts  ?  and  fill  the  gulf  of  my  insatiate  mind  ? 

Lies  it  in  treasure  ?  in  full  heaps  untold  ? 
Doth  gouty  Mammon's  griping  hand  infold 
This  secret  saint  in  sacred  shrines  of  sov' reign  gold  ? 

No,  no,  she  lies  not  there  ;  wealth  often  sours 
In  keeping  ;  makes  us  hers,  in  seeming  ours  ; 
She  slides  from  Heav'n  indeed,  but  not  in  Danae's  show'rs. 

Lives  she  in  honour  ?     No.     The  royal  crown 
Builds  up  a  creature,  and  then  batters  down  : 
Kings  raise  thee  with  a  smile,  and  raze  thee  with  a  frown. 

In  pleasure  ?     No.     Pleasure  begins  in  rage  ; 
Acts  the  fool's  part  on  earth's  uncertain  stage  ; 
Begins  the  play  in  youth,  and  epilogues  in  age. 

These,  these  are  bastard  goods  ;  the  best  of  these 
Torment  the  soul  with  pleasing  it ;  and  please, 
Like  waters  gulp'd  in  fevers,  with  deceitful  ease. 

Earth's  flatt'ring  dainties  are  but  sweet  distresses  : 
Mole-hills  perform  the  mountains  she  professes, 
Alas  !  can  earth  confer  more  good  than  earth  possesses  ? 

Mount,  mount,  my  soul,  and  let  my  thoughts  cashier 
Earth's  vain  delights,  and  make  thy  full  career 
At  Heav'n's  eternal  joys  ;  stop,  stop,  thy  courser  there. 


tries1  Emblems.  247 

There  shall  thy  soul  possess  uncareful  treasure: 

There  shalt  thou  swim  in  never-fading  pleasure, 

And  blaze  in  honour  far  above  the  frowns  of  Caesar 

Lord,  if  my  hope  dare  let  her  anchor  fall 
On  thee,  the  chiefest  good,  no  need  to  call 
For  earth's  inferior  trash  ;   thou,  thou  art  ALL  IX  ALL. 


S.  Arc.  1ST.  Soliloq.  Cap.  xiii. 
1  follow  this  thing-,  I  pursue  that,  but  I  am  filled  with 
nothing.  But  when  I  found  thee,  who  art  that  immutable, 
undivided,  and  only  good  in  thyself,  what  I  obtained,  I 
wanted  not  ;  for  what  I  obtained  not,  I  grieved  not  ;  with 
what  I  was  possessed,  my  whole  desire  was  satisfied. 


S.  BERN.  Ser.  ix.  Sup.  Beati  qui  habent,  &c. 
Let  others  pretend  merit ;  let  him  brag  of  the  burthen  of 
the  day  ;  let  him  boast  of  his  Sabbath-fasts,  and  let  him 
glory  in  that  he  is  not  as  other  men  :  but  for  me,  it  is  good 
to  cleave  unto  the  LORD,  and  to  put  my  trust  in  my  LORD 
God. 

Epig.  13. 
Let  Boreas'  blasts,  and  Neptune's  waves  be  join'd, 
Thy  ^Eolus  commands  the  waves,  the  wind  : 
Fear  not  the  rocks,  or  world's  imperious  waves  ; 
Thou  climb'st  a  Rock,  my  soul,  a  Rock  that  saves. 


raJk^s 


Lti 


l  sat  down  under  his  shadow  with  great  delight,  and  his  fruit 
was  sweet  to  my  taste. — CANTICLES  II.  3. 

Look  how  the  sheep,  whose  rambling  steps  do  stra\ 

From  the  safe  blessing  of  her  shepherd's  eyes, 
Eft-soon  becomes  the  unprotected  prey 

To  the  wing'd  squadron  of  beleag'ring  flies  ; 
Where,  swelter' d  with  the  scorching  beams  of  day, 
She  frisks  from  bush  to  brake,  and  wildly  flies  away 
From  her  own  self,  e'en  of  herself  afraid  ; 
She  shrouds  her  troubled  brow  in  ev'ry  glade, 
And  craves  the  mercy  of  the  soft  removing  shade. 

E'en  so  my  wand'ring  soul,  that  hath  digress'd 
From  her  great  Shepherd,  is  the  hourly  prey 
Of  all  my  sins  ;  these  vultures  in  my  breast 

Gripe  my  Promethean  heart  ;  both  night  and  day 
T  hunt  from  place  to  place,  but  find  no  rest  ; 
1  know  not  where  to  go,  nor  where  to  stay  : 
The  eye  of  vengeance  burns,  her  flames  invade 
My  swelt'ring  soul :  my  soul  hath  oft  assay'd, 
Vet  she  can  find  no  shroud,  yet  can  she  feel  no  shade  ? 


250  Quarks  Emblems. 

I  sought  the  shades  of  mirth,  to  wear  away 

My  slow-pac'd  hours  of  soul-consuming  grief; 
I  search'd  the  shades  of  sleep,  to  ease  my  day 

Of  griping  sorrows  with  a  night's  reprieve. 
I  sought  the  shades  of  death  ;  thought  there  t'  allay 
My  final  torments  with  a  full  relief: 

But  mirth,  nor  sleep,  nor  death,  can  hide  my 

hours 
In  the  false  shades  of  their  deceitful  bowers  ; 
The  first  distracts,  the  next  disturbs,  the  last  devours. 

Where  shall  I  turn  ?  to  whom  shall  I  apply  me  ? 

Are  there  no  streams  where  a  faint  soul  may  wade  ? 
Thy  Godhead,  Jesus,  are  the  flames  that  fry  me  ; 

Hath  thy  all-glorious  Deity  ne'er  a  shade, 
Where  I  may  sit  and  vengeance  never  eye  me  ; 
Where  I  might  sit  refresh'd  or  unafraid  ? 
Is  there  no  comfort  ?  is  there  no  refection  ; 
Is  there  no  cover  that  will  give  protection 
T'  a  fainting  soul,  the  subject  of  thy  wrath's  reflec- 
tion ? 

Look  up,  my  soul,  advance  the  lowly  stature 

Of  thy  sad  thoughts  ;  advance  thy  humble  eye  : 
See,  here 's  a  shadow  found  :  the  human  nature 

Is  made  th'  umbrella  to  the  Deity, 
To  catch  the  sunbeams  of  thy  just  Creator  : 
Beneath  this  covert  thou  may'st  safely  lie  : 
Permit  thine  eyes  to  climb  this  fruitful  tree, 
As  quick  Zacchaeus  did,  and  thou  shalt  see 
A  cloud  of  dying  flesh  betwixt  those  beams  and 
thee. 


Quarks1  Emblems. 


5' 


( ii  ii .  in  Cap.  ii.  ( '.mt. 
Who  can  endure  the  fierce  rays  of  the  Sun  of  justice? 
wliD  shall  not  be  consumed  by  his  beams?  therefore  the  Sun 

of  justice   took   flesh,   that,   through    the   conjunction   of   that 
Sun  and  this  human  body,  a  shadow  may  be  made. 

S.  August.  Med.  Cap.  xxxiv. 

LORD,  let  my  soul  flee  from  the  scorching  thoughts  of  the 
world,  under  the  covert  of  thy  wings,  that,  being  refreshed 
by  the  moderation  of  thy  shadow,  she  may  sing  merrily.  In 
peace  will  I  lay  me  down  and  rest. 

Eric  14. 
Ah  !  treach'rous  soul,  would  not  thy  pleasures  give 
That  Lord,  which  made  thee  living,  leave  to  live  ? 
See  what  thy  sins  have  done  :  thy  sins  have  made 
The  Sun  of  Glory  now  become  thy  shade. 


i 


Haw  shall  we  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land? — PSALM 

CXXXVII.  4. 


URGE  me  no  more  :  this  airy  mirth  belongs 
To  better  times  :  these  times  are  not  for  songs. 
The  sprightly  twang  of  the  melodious  lute 
Agrees  not  with  my  voice  :  and  both  unsuit 
My  untun'd  fortunes  :  the  affected  measure 
Of  strains  that  are  constraint,  afford  no  pleasure. 
Music  's  the  child  of  mirth  :  where  griefs  assail 
The  troubled  soul,  both  voice  and  fingers  fail  : 
Let  such  as  revel  out  their  lavish  days 
In  honourable  riot ;  that  can  raise 
Dejected  hearts,  and  conjure  up  a  sp'rit 
Of  madness  by  the  magic  of  delight ; 
Let  those  of  Cupid's  hospital,  that  lie 
Impatient  patients  to  a  smiling  eye, 
That  cannot  rest,  until  vain  hope  beguile 
Their  flatter'd  torment  with  a  wanton  smile  : 
Let  such  redeem  their  peace,  and  salve  the  wrong 
Of  froward  fortune  with  their  frolic  songs  : 
My  grief,  my  grief's  too  great  for  smiling  eyes 
To  cure,  or  counter-charms  to  exorci^r 


254  Quarks  Emblems. 

The  raven's  dismal  croaks,  the  midnight  howls 

Of  empty  wolves,  mix'd  with  the  screech  of  owls, 

The  nine  sad  knells  of  a  dull  passing  bell, 

With  the  loud  language  of  a  nightly  knell, 

And  horrid  outcries  of  revenged  crimes, 

Join'd  in  a  medley's  music  for  these  times  ; 

These  are  no  times  to  touch  the  merry  string 

Of  Orpheus  ;  no,  these  are  no  times  to  sing. 

Can  hide-bound  pris'ners,  that  have  spent  their  souls 

And  famish'd  bodies  in  the  noisome  holes 

Of  hell-black  dungeons,  apt  their  rougher  throats, 

Grown  hoarse  with  begging  alms,  to  warble  notes  ? 

Can  the  sad  pilgrim,  that  hath  lost  his  way 

In  the  vast  desert ;  there  condemn'd  a  prey 

To  the  wild  subject,  or  his  savage  king, 

Rouse  up  his  palsy-smitten  sp'rits  and  sing  ? 

Can  I,  a  pilgrim,  and  a  pris'ner  too, 

Alas !  where  I  am  neither  known,  nor  know 

Aught  but  my  torments,  an  unransom'd  stranger 

In  this  strange  climate,  in  a  land  of  danger  ? 

O,  can  my  voice  be  pleasant,  or  my  hand, 

Thus  made  a  pris'ner  to  a  foreign  land  ? 

How  can  my  music  relish  in  your  ears, 

That  cannot  speak  for  sobs,  nor  sing  for  tears  ? 

Ah  !  if  my  voice  could,  Orpheus-like,  unspell 

My  poor  Eurydice,  my  soul,  from  hell 

Of  earth's  misconstrued  Heav'n,  O  then  my  breast 

Should  warble  airs,  whose  rhapsodies  should  feast 

The  ears  of  seraphims,  and  entertain 

Heav'n's  highest  Deity  with  their  lofty  strain  : 

A  strain  well  drench'd  in  the  true  Thespian  well, 

Till  then,  earth's  semiquaver,  mirth,  farewell. 


Quarks'  Emblems. 


-5  5 


S.  A  l  Gl  ST.  Med  Cap.  xxxiii. 

0  infinitely  happy  arc  those  heavenly  virtues,  which  arc 

able  to  praise  thee  in  holiness  and  purity  with  excessive 
sweetness,  and  unutterable  exaltation  !  from  thence  they 
praise  thee,  from  whence  they  rejoice,  because  they  continu- 
ally see  for  what  they  rejoice,  for  what  they  praise  thee  :  but 
we,  pressed  down  with  this  burden  of  flesh,  far  removed  from 
thy  countenance  in  this  pilgrimage,  and  blown  up  with  worldly 
vanities,  cannot  worthily  praise  thee  :  we  praise  thee  by  faith, 
not  face  to  face  ;  but  those  angelical  spirits  praise  thee  face  to 
face,  and  not  by  faith. 

EPIG.  15. 
Did  I  refuse  to  sing?     Said  I,  these  times 
Were  not  for  songs  :  nor  music  for  these  climes  ; 
It  was  my  error :  are  not  groans  and  tears 
Harmonious  raptures  in  th'  Almighty's  ears  ? 


BOOK    THE    FIFTH 


/  charge you,  0  daughters  of  Jerusalem,  if  you  find  my  beloved, 

that  you  tell  him  that  I  am  sick  of  love. — CANTICLES  V.  8. 

YE  holy  virgins,  that  so  oft  surround 

The  city's  sapphire  walls  ;  whose  snowy  feet 
Measure  the  pearly  paths  of  sacred  ground, 

And  trace  the  new  Jerus'lem's  jasper  street  ; 
Ah  !  you  whose  care-forsaken  hearts  are  crown'd 
With  your  best  wishes  ;  that  enjoy  the  sweet 
Of  all  your  hopes  ;  if  e'er  you  chance  to  spy 
My  absent  love,  O  tell  him  that  I  lie 
Deep  wounded  with  the  flames  that  furnae'd  from  his 
eye. 


I  charge  you,  virgins,  as  you  hope  to  hear 

The  heav'nly  music  of  your  Lover's  voice  ; 
I  charge  you,  by  the  solemn  faith  you  bear 

To  plighted  vows,  and  to  that  loyal  choice 
Of  your  affections,  or  if  aught  more  dear 

You  hold  ;  by  Hymen,  by  your  marriage  joys  ; 
I  charge  you  tell  him,  that  a  flaming  dart, 
Shot  from  his  eye,  hath  piere'd  my  bleeding  heart, 
And  I  am  sick  of  love,  and  languish  in  my  smart. 


s2 


260  Quarks  Emblems. 

Tell  him,  O  tell  him,  how  my  panting  breast 

Is  scorch'd  with  flames,  and  how  my  soul  is  pin'd  ; 
Tell  him,  O  tell  him,  how  I  lie  opprest 

With  the  full  torments  of  a  troubled  mind  ; 
O  tell  him,  tell  him  that  he  loves  in  jest, 
But  I  in  earnest ;  tell  him  he  's  unkind  : 
But  if  a  discontented  frown  appears 
Upon  his  angry  brow,  accost  his  ears 
With  soft  and  fewer  words,  and  act  the  rest  in  tears. 

O  tell  him,  that  his  cruelties  deprive 

My  soul  of  peace,  while  peace  in  vain  she  seeks  ; 
Tell  him,  those  damask  roses  that  did  strive 

With  white,  both  fade  upon  my  sallow  cheeks  ; 
Tell  him,  no  token  doth  proclaim  I  live, 

But  tears,  and  sighs,  and  sobs,  and  sudden  shrieks  ; 
Thus  if  your  piercing  words  should  chance  to 

bore 
His  heark'ning  ear,  and  move  a  sigh,  give  o'er 
To  speak  ;    and  tell  him,  tell  him  that  I  could  no 
more. 

If  your  elegious  breath  should  hap  to  rouse 

A  happy  tear,  close  harb'ring  in  his  eye, 
Then  urge  his  plighted  faith,  the  sacred  vows, 

Which  neither  I  can  break,  nor  he  deny  ; 
Bewail  the  torment  of  his  loyal  spouse, 

That  for  his  sake  would  make  a  sport  to  die  : 
O  blessed  virgins,  how  my  passion  tires 
Beneath  the  burden  of  her  fond  desires  ! 
Heav'n  never  shot  such  flames,  earth  never  felt  such 
fires ! 


Quarlcs  Emblems. 


2C)\ 


S.  August.  Wed.  Cap.  xi. 

What  shall  I  say?  what  shall  I  do  ?  whither  shall  I  go  ? 
where  shall  1  seek  him?  or  when  shall  I  find  him?  whom 
shall  I  ask  ?  who  will  tell  my  beloved  that  I  am  sick  of  love  ? 


GULIEL.  in  Cap.  v.  Cant. 
I  live,  but  not  I  :  it  is  my  beloved  that  liveth  in  me  :    I 
love  myself,  not  with  my  own  love,  but  with  the  love  of  my 
beloved  that  loveth   me  :    I    love  not  myself  in   myself,  but 
myself  in  him,  and  him  in  me. 

Epic;,  i. 
Grieve  not,  my  soul,  nor  let  thy  love  wax  faint : 
Weep'st  thou  to  lose  the  cause  of  thy  complaint  ? 
He'll  come  ;  love  ne'er  was  bound  to  times  nor  laws  ? 
Till  then  thy  tears  complain  without  a  cause. 


Stay  me  withflowers^  and  comfort  me  with  apples:  for  f  am  sick 
of  love. — Canticles  11.  5. 

O  TYRANT  love  !  how  doth  thy  sov'reign  pow'r 

Subject  poor  souls  to  the  imperious  thrall  ! 
They  say,  thy  cup's  compos'd  of  sweet  and  sour; 

The\-  say,  thy  diet's  honey  mix'd  with  gall ; 
How  comes  it  then  to  pass,  these  lips  of  ours 
Still  trade  in  bitter  ;  taste  no  sweet  at  all  ? 
O  tyrant  love  !  shall  our  perpetual  toil 
Ne'er  find  a  sabbath  to  refresh  awhile 
Our  drooping  souls  ?   art  thou  all  frowns,  and  ne'er  a 
smile  ? 

Ye  blessed  maids  of  honour,  that  frequent 

The  royal  courts  of  our  renown'd  Jehove, 
With  flowers  restore  my  spirits  faint  and  spent  ; 

O  fetch  me  apples  from  love's  fruitful  grove, 
To  cool  my  palate  and  renew  my  scent, 
For  I  am  sick,  for  I  am  sick  of  love  : 

These  will  revive  my  dry,  my  wasted  pow'rs, 
And  they  will  sweeten  my  unsav'ry  hours  ; 
Refresh  me  then  with  fruit,  and  comfort  me  with  flowVs. 


64  Quarks  Emblems. 

O  bring  me  apples  to  assuage  that  fire, 

Which,  ^Etna-like,  inflames  my  flaming  breast  ; 
Nor  is  it  every  apple  I  desire, 

Nor  that  which  pleases  ev'ry  palate  best  : 
'T  is  not  the  lasting  deuzan  I  require  : 

Nor  yet  the  red-cheek'd  queening  I  request  : 
Nor  that  which  first  beshrevv'd  the  name  of  wife, 
Nor  that  whose  beauty  caus'd  the  golden  strife  ; 
No,  no,  bring  me  an  apple  from  the  tree  of  life. 

Virgins,  tuck  up  your  silken  laps,  and  fill  ye 
With  the  fair  wealth  of  Flora's  magazine  ; 
The  purple  violet,  and  the  pale-fac'd  lily  : 

The  pansy,  and  the  organ  columbine  ; 
The  flow'ring  thyme,  the  gilt  bowl  daffodilly  ; 
The  lowly  pink,  the  lofty  eglantine  : 

The  blushing   rose,  the  queen  of  flow'rs,   and 

best 
Of  Flora's  beauty  ;  but  above  the  rest, 
Let  Jesse's  sov'reign  flow'r  perfume  my  qualming 
breast. 

Haste,  virgins,  haste,  for  I  lie  weak,  and  faint 

Beneath  the  pangs  of  love  ;  why  stand  ye  mute, 
As  if  your  silence  neither  cared  to  grant, 

Nor  yet  your  language  to  deny  my  suit  ? 
No  key  can  lock  the  door  of  my  complaint, 
Until  I  smell  this  flow'r,  or  taste  that  fruit. 

Go,  virgins,  seek  this  tree,  and  search  that  bow'r  ; 
O,  how  my  soul  shall  bless  that  happy  hour, 
That  brings  to  me  such  fruit,  that  brings  me  such  a 
flow'r ! 


Quarles'  Emblems. 


( ris  n  \.  in  Cap.  ii.  ( lant  Expos.  3. 
0  happy  sickness,  where  the  infirmity  is  not  to  death,  but 
to  life,  that  GOD  may  be  glorified  by  it!    ()  happy  fever,  thai 
proceedeth  not  from  a  consuming,  hut  a  calcining  fire  I    <  I 
happy  distemper,  wherein  the  soul  relisheth  no  earthly  tin 
hut  only  savoureth  divine  nourishment  ! 

S.  Bern,  in  Serm.  H.  Cant. 
By  {lowers,  understand  faith  ;  by  fruit,  good  works.     As 
the  flower  or  blossom  is  before  the  fruit,  so  is  faith  before 
good  works  :   so  neither  is  the  fruit  without  the   flower,   nor 
good  works  without  faith. 

EPIG.  2. 
Why  apples,  O  my  soul  ?  can  they  remove 
The  pains  of  grief,  or  ease  the  flames  of  love  ? 
It  was  that  fruit  which  gave  the  first  offence  ; 
That  sent  him  hither  ;  that  remov'd  him  hence. 


qT^^Xi- 


Mv  beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his:  he  feedeth  among  the  lilies 
— Canticles  ii.  16. 

E'en  like  two  little  bank-dividing  brooks, 

That  wash  the  pebbles  with  their  wanton  streams, 
And  having  rang'd  and  search' d  a  thousand  nooks, 

Meet  both  at  length  in  silver-breasted  Thames, 
Where  in  a  greater  current  they  conjoin  : 
So  I  my  best  beloved's  am  ;  so  he  is  mine. 

E'en  so  we  met ;  and  after  long  pursuit, 
E'en  so  we  join'd,  we  both  became  entire  ; 

No  need  for  either  to  renew  a  suit, 

For  I  was  flax,  and  he  was  flames  of  fire. 
Our  firm  united  souls  did  more  than  twine  ; 

So  I  my  best  beloved's  am  ;  so  he  is  mine. 

If  all  those  glitt'ring  monarchs,  that  command 
The  senile  quarters  of  this  earthly  ball, 

Should  tender,  in  exchange,  their  shares  of  land. 
I  would  not  change  my  fortunes  for  them  all  : 
Their  wealth  is  but  a  counter  to  my  coin  ; 

The  world 's  but  theirs  ;  but  my  beloved  's  mine. 


268  Quarles  Emblems. 

Nay,  more  ;  if  the  fair  Thespian  ladies  all 

Should  heap  together  their  diviner  treasure, 
That  treasure  should  be  deem'd  a  price  too  small 
To  buy  a  minute's  lease  of  half  my  pleasure  ; 
'T  is  not  the  sacred  wealth  of  all  the  nine 
Can  buy  my  heart  from  him,  or  his  from  being 
mine. 

Nor  time,  nor  place,  nor  chance,  nor  death  can 
bow 
My  least  desires  unto  the  least  remove  ; 
He 's  firmly  mine  by  oath  ;  I  his  by  vow  ; 
He 's  mine  by  faith  ;  and  I  am  his  by  love  ; 
He 's  mine  by  water  ;  I  am  his  by  wine  ; 
Thus  I  my  best  beloved's  am  ;  thus  he  is  mine. 

He  is  my  altar ;  I  his  holy  place  ; 

I  am  his  guest,  and  he  my  living  food  ; 
I  'm  his  by  penitence  ;  he  mine  by  grace  ; 

I  'm  his  by  purchase  ;  he  is  mine  by  blood  ; 
He  's  my  supporting  helm  ;  and  I  his  vine  : 
Thus  I  my  best  beloved's  am  ;  thus  he  is  mine. 

He  gives  me  wealth,  I  give  him  all  my  vows  : 

I  give  him  songs  ;  he  gives  me  length  of  days  : 
With  wreaths  of  grace  he  crowns  my  conquering 
brows  : 
And  I  his  temples  with  a  crown  of  praise, 
Which  he  accepts  ;  an  everlasting  sign, 
That  I  my  best  beloved's  am  ;  that  he  is  mine. 


Quarks'  Emblems, 


S,  August.  Manu.  Cap.  xxiv. 
o  my  soul,  stamped  with  the  image  of  thy  God,  love  him 
of  whom  thou  art  so  much  beloved:  bend  to  him  that  boweth 
to  thee,  seek  him  that  seeketh  thee:  love  the  lover,  by  whose 
love  thou  art  prevented,  being  the  cause  of  thy  love:  be  care- 
ful with  those  that  are  careful,  want  with  those  that  want  ;  be- 
clean  with  the  clean,  and  holy  with  the  holy  :  choose  this 
friend  above  all  friends,  who  when  all  are  taken  away,  rc- 
maineth  only  faithful  to  thee  :  in  the  day  of  thy  burial,  when 
all  leave  thee,  he  will  not  deceive  thee,  but  defend  thee  from 
the  roaring  lions  prepared  for  their  prey. 

Epig.  3. 
Sing,  Hymen,  to  my  soul :  what,  lost  and  found  ? 
Welcom'd,  espous'd,  enjoy'd  so  soon  and  crown'd  ! 
He  did  but  climb  the  cross,  and  then  came  down 
To  the  gates  of  hell  ;  triumph'd,  and  fetch'd  a  crown. 


'4£~^f^t*' 


t  am  my  beloved's,  and' his  desire  is  toward  me. — Canth  i  i  s 

vii.  10. 

LIKE  to  the  arctic  needle,  that  cloth  guide 
The  wand'ring  shade  by  his  magnetic  pow'r, 

And  leaves  his  silken  gnomon  to  decide 
The  question  of  the  controverted  hour, 

First  frantics  up  and  down  from  side  to  side, 
And  restless  beats  his  crystal'd  iv'ry  case, 
With  vain  impatience  jets  from  place  to  place, 

And  seeks  the  bosom  of  his  frozen  bride  ; 

At  length  he  slacks  his  motion,  and  doth  rest 

His  trembling  point  at  his  bright  pole's  beloved  breast. 

E'en  so  my  soul,  being  hurried  here  and  there, 
By  ev'ry  object  that  presents  delight, 

Fain  would  be  settled,  but  she  knows  not  where  ; 
She  likes  at  morning  what  she  loathes  at  night  : 

She  bows  to  honour  ;  then  she  lends  an  ear 

To  that  sweet  swan-like  voice  of  dying  pleasure, 
Then  tumbles  in  the  scatter'd  heaps  of  treasure  ; 

Now  flattered  with  false  hope  ;  now  foil'd  with  fear  : 
Thus  finding  all  the  world's  delight  to  be 

But  empty  toys,  good  GOD,  she  points  alone  to  thee. 


72  Quarks'  Emblems. 

But  hath  the  virtued  steel  a  power  to  move  ? 
Or  can  the  untouch' d  needle  point  aright  ? 

Or  can  my  wand'ring  thoughts  forbear  to  rove, 
Unguided  by  the  virtue  of  thy  sp'rit  ? 

O  hath  my  leaden  soul  the  art  t'  improve 
Her  wasted  talent,  and,  unrais'd,  aspire 
In  this  sad  moulting  time  of  her  desire  ? 

Not  first  belov'd,  have  I  the  power  to  love  ; 

I  cannot  stir,  but  as  thou  please  to  move  me, 

Nor  can  my  heart  return  thee  love,  until  thou  love  me. 

The  still  commandress  of  the  silent  night 

Borrows  her  beams  from  her  bright  brother's  eye  ; 

His  fair  aspect  fills  her  sharp  horns  with  light, 
If  he  withdraw,  her  flames  are  quench'd  and  die  : 

E'en  so  the  beams  of  thy  enlight'ning  sp'rit, 
Infus'd  and  shot  into  my  dark  desire, 
Inflame  my  thoughts,  and  fill  my  soul  with  fire, 

That  I  am  ravish'd  with  a  new  delight ; 

But  if  thou  shroud  thy  face,  my  glory  fades, 

And  I  remain  a  nothing,  all  compos'd  of  shades. 

Eternal  GOD  !  O  thou  that  only  art 

The  sacred  fountain  of  eternal  light, 
And  blessed  loadstone  of  my  better  part, 

O  thou,  my  heart's  desire,  my  soul's  delight ! 
Reflect  upon  my  soul,  and  touch  my  heart, 

And  then  my  heart  shall  prize  no  good  above  thee  ; 
And  then  my  soul  shall  know  thee  ;  knowing,  love  thee ; 
And  then  my  trembling  thoughts  shall  never  start 

From  thy  commands,  or  swerve  the  least  degree, 
Or  once  presume  to  move,  but  as  they  move  in  thee. 


On (ii Its'  Emblems, 


s.  August,  m»  d.  Cap.  x. 
[f  man  can  love  man  with  so  rutin-  affection,  that  the  one 
ran  scarce  brook  the  other's  absence ;  if  a  bride  can  be  joined 
to  her  bridegroom  with  so  great  an  ardency  of  mind,  that 
for  the  extremity  of  love  she  can  enjoy  no  rest,  nor  suffer 
his  absence  without  great  anxiety,  with  what  affection,  with 
what  fervency  ought  the  soul,  wh<  m  thou  hast  espoused  by 
faith  and  compassion,  to  love  thee,  her  true  GOD,  and  glorious 
bridegroom  ? 

Epig.  4. 

My  soul,  thy  love  is  dear  :  'twas  thought  a  good 
And  easy  penn'worth  of  thy  Saviour's  blood  : 
But  be  not  proud  ;  all  matters  rightly  scann'd, 
'T  was  over-bought :  'twas  sold  at  second-hand. 


3b^^ 


'W^^^Xf' 


My  soul  melted  whilst  my  beloved  spake. — CANTK  LES  \.  6 

LORD,  has  the  feeble  voice  of  flesh  and  blood 

The  pow'r  to  work  thine  ears  into  a  flood 

Of  melted  mercy  ?  or  the  strength  t'  unlock 

The  gates  of  Heav'n,  and  to  dissolve  a  rock 

Of  marble  clouds  into  a  morning  show'r  ? 

Or  hath  the  breath  of  whining  dust  the  pow'r 

To  stop  or  snatch  a  falling  thunderbolt 

From  thy  fierce  hand,  and  make  thy  hand  revolt 

From  resolute  confusion,  and,  instead 

Of  vials,  pour  full  blessings  on  our  head  ? 

Or  shall  the  want  of  famish'd  ravens  cry, 

And  move  thy  mercy  to  a  quick  supply? 

Or  shall  the  silent  suits  of  drooping  flow'rs 

Woo  thee  for  drops,  and  be  refresh'd  with  show'rs  ? 

Alas  !  what  marvel,  then,  great  Goi),  what  wonder, 

If  thy  hell-rousing  voice,  that  splits  in  sunder 

The  brazen  portals  of  eternal  death  ; 

What  wonder  if  that  life-restoring  breath, 

Which  dragg'd  me  from  th'  infernal  shades  of  night, 

Should  melt  my  ravish'd  soul  with  o'er-delight  ? 

T  2 


276  Quarks  Emblems. 

O  can  my  frozen  gutters  choose  but  run, 
That  feel  the  warmth  of  such  a  glorious  sun  ? 
Methinks  his  language,  like  a  flaming  arrow, 
Doth  pierce  my  bones,  and  melts  their  wounded 

marrow. 
Thy  flames,  O  Cupid,  (though  the  joyful  heart 
Feels  neither  tang  of  grief,  nor  fears  the  smart 
Of  jealous  doubts,  but  drunk  with  full  desires,) 
Are  torments,  weigh'd  with  these  celestial  fires  ; 
Pleasures  that  ravish  in  so  high  a  measure, 
That  O,  I  languish  in  excess  of  pleasure : 
What  ravish' d  heart  that  feels  these  melting  joys, 
Would  not  despise  and  loathe  the  treach'rous  toys 
Of  dunghill  earth  ?  what  soul  would  not  be  proud 
Of  wry-mouth' d  scorns,  the  worst  that  flesh  and 

blood 
Had  rancour  to  devise  ?  who  would  not  bear 
The  world's  derision  with  a  thankful  ear  ? 
What  palate  would  refuse  full  bowls  of  spite 
To  gain  a  minute's  taste  of  such  delight  ? 
Great  spring  of  light,  in  whom  there  is  no  shade 
But  what  my  interposed  sins  have  made  ; 
Whose  marrow-melting  fires  admit  no  screen 
But  what  my  own  rebellions  put  between 
Their  precious  flames  and  my  obdurate  ear ; 
Disperse  this  plague-distilling  cloud,  and  clear 
My  mungy  soul  into  a  glorious  day : 
Transplant  this  screen,  remove  this  bar  away  ; 
Then,  then  my  fluent  soul  shall  feel  the  fires 
Of  thy  sweet  voice,  and  my  dissolv'd  desires 
Shall  turn  a  sov'reign  balsam,  to  make  whole 
Those  wounds  my  sins  inflicted  on  thy  soul. 


(htiu/cs  Emblems, 


S.  August.  Soliloq.  Cap.  xxxiv. 
What  fire  Is  this  that  so  warmeth  my  heart?  what  light 
is  this  that  so  enlighteneth  my  soul?    ()  lire!  that  always 
burnetii,  and   never  goeth  out,  kindle  me:    ()  light,  which 

ever  shineth,  and  art  never  darkened,  illuminate  me  :  0  that 
I  had  my  heat  from  thee,  most  holy  fire !  how  sweetly  dost 
thou  burn  !  how  secretly  dost  thou  shine  !  how  desiredly  dost 
thou  inflame  me  ! 

S.  BONAVENT.  Stim.  Amoris.  Cap.  viii. 
It  maketh  God  man,  and   man  God  ;    things  temporal, 
eternal  ;  mortal,  immortal  ;  it  maketh  an  enemy,  a  friend  ;  a 
servant,  a  son  ;  vile  things,  glorious  ;  cold  hearts,  fiery  ;  and 
hard  things,  liquid. 

Epig.  5. 
My  soul,  thy  gold  is  true,  but  full  of  dross  ; 
Thy  Saviour's  breath  refines  thee  with  some  loss ; 
His  gentle  furnace  makes  thee  pure  as  true  ; 
Thou  must  be  melted  ere  th'  art  cast  anew. 


Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee?  and  tJtere  is  none  upon  earth 
that  1  desire  beside  thee. — PSALM  LXXIII.  25. 

1  i.ovk  (and  have  some  cause  to  love;  the  earth  ; 
She  is  my  Maker's  creature,  therefore  good  : 
She  is  my  mother,  for  she  gave  me  birth  ; 
She  is  my  tender  nurse  ;  she  gives  me  food  : 

But  what's  a  creature,  Lord,  compar'd  with  thee  ? 

( )r  what  \s  my  mother,  or  my  nurse,  to  me  ? 


1  love  the  air  ;  her  dainty  sweets  refresh 

My  drooping  soul,  and  to  new  sweets  invite  me  ; 

Her  shrill-mouth'd  choir  sustain  me  with  their  flesh. 

And  with  their  Polyphonian  notes  delight  me  : 
But  what 's  the  air,  or  all  the  sweets  that  she 
Can  bless  my  soul  withal,  compar'd  to  thee  ? 


1  love  the  sea  ;  she  is  my  fellow-creature, 
My  careful  purveyor  ;  she  provides  me  store  : 
She  walls  me  round  ;  she  makes  my  diet  greater  ; 
She  wafts  my  treasure  from  a  foreign  shore  : 
But,  LORD  of  oceans,  when  compar'd  with  thee, 
What  is  the  ocean,  or  her  wealth,  to  me  ? 


280  Quarks  Emblems. 

To  Heav'n's  high  city  I  direct  my  journey, 
Whose  spangled  suburbs  entertain  mine  eye  ; 
Mine  eye,  by  contemplation's  great  attorney, 
Transcends  the  crystal  pavement  of  the  sky  : 

But  what  is  Heav'n,  great  God,  compar'd  to  thee  ? 

Without  thy  presence,  Heav'n's  no  Heav'n  to  me. 

Without  thy  presence,  earth  gives  no  refection  ; 

Without  thy  presence,  sea  affords  no  treasure  ; 

Without  thy  presence,  air 's  a  rank  infection  ; 

Without  thy  presence,  Heav'n  itself 's  no  pleasure  ; 
If  not  possess'd,  if  not  enjoy'd  in  thee, 
What's  earth,  or  sea,  or  air,  or  Heav'n,  to  me  ? 

The  highest  honours  that  the  world  can  boast 
Are  subjects  far  too  low  for  my  desire ; 
The  brightest  beams  of  glory  are  (at  most) 
But  dying  sparkles  of  thy  living  fire  : 
*    The  proudest  flames  that  earth  can  kindle  be 
But  nightly  glow-worms,  if  compar'd  to  thee. 

Without  thy  presence,  wealth  are  bags  of  cares  ; 

Wisdom,  but  folly  ;  joy,  disquiet  sadness  : 

Friendship  is  treason,  and  delights  are  snares  ; 

Pleasure 's  but  pain,  and  mirth  but  pleasing  madness  ; 
Without  thee,  LORD,  things  be  not  what  they  be, 
Nor  have  their  being  when  compar'd  with  thee. 

In  having  all  things,  and  not  thee,  what  have  I  ? 
Not  having  thee,  what  have  my  labours  got  ? 
Let  me  enjoy  but  thee,  what  farther  crave  I  ? 
And  having  thee  alone,  what  have  I  not  ? 


tries1  Emblems. 

I  wish  nor  sea,  nor  land  ;   nor  would  I   be 

is'd  of  I  Uav'n,  Heav'n  unpossess'd  of  thee. 


BONAVENT.  Soliloq.  Cap.  i. 

Alas!  my  GOD,  now  I  understand  (but  blush  to  confess) 
that  the  beauty  of  thy  creatures  hath  deceived  mine  cyc^, 
and  I  have  not  observed  that  thou  art  more  amiable  than  all 
the  creatures  ;  to  which  thou  hast  communicated  but  one 
drop  ^A~  thy  inestimable  beauty:  for  who  hath  adorned  the 
heavens  with  stars  ?  who  hath  stored  the  air  with  fowl,  the 
waters  with  fish,  the  earth  with  plants  and  flower  ?  but  what 
are  all  these  but  a  small  spark  of  divine  beauty  ? 

S.  CHRYS.  Horn.  v.  in  Ep.  ad  Rom. 
In  having  nothing,  I  have  all  things,  because  I  have  Christ. 
Having  therefore  all  things  in  him,  I  seek  no  other  reward  ; 
for  he  is  the  universal  reward. 

Epig.  6. 
Who  would  not  throw  his  better  thoughts  about  him  ? 
And  scorn  this  dross  within  him  ;  that  without  him  ? 
Cast  up,  my  soul,  thy  clearer  eye  ;  behold, 
If  thou  be  fully  melted,  there's  the  mould. 


P^f¥  # 


/  roe  is  mo,  that  I  sojourn  in  Mesechy  that  I  dwell  in  the  touts  oj 
Kedar! — Psalm  cxx.  5. 


Is  nature's  course  dissolv'd  ?  cloth  time's  glass  stand  ? 

Or  hath  some  frolic  heart  set  back  the  hand 

Of  fate's  perpetual  clock  ?  will 't  never  strike  ? 

Is  crazy  time  grown  lazy,  faint  or  sick, 

With  very  age  ?  or  hath  that  great  pair-royal 

Of  adamantine  sisters  late  made  trial 

Of  some  new  trade  ?  shall  mortal  hearts  grow  old 

In  sorrow  ?  shall  my  weary  arms  infold, 

And  under-prop  my  panting  sides  for  ever  ? 

Is  there  no  charitable  hand  will  sever 

My  well-spun  thread,  that  my  imprisoned  soul 

May  be  deliver' d  from  this  dull  dark  hole 

Of  dungeon  flesh  ?     O  shall  I,  shall  I  never 

Be  ransom'd,  but  remain  a  slave  for  ever  ? 

It  is  the  lot  of  man  but  once  to  die, 

But  ere  that  death,  how  many  deaths  have  I  ? 

What  human  madness  makes  the  world  afraid 

To  entertain  Heav'n's  joys,  because  convey'd 

By  the  hand  of  death  ?  will  nakedness  refuse 

Rich  change  of  robes,  because  the  man  's  not  spruce 


284  Quarks  Emblems. 

That  brought  them  ?  or  will  poverty  send  back 

Full  bags  of  gold,  because  the  bringer  's  black  ? 

Life  is  a  bubble,  blown  with  whining  breaths, 

Fill'd  with  the  torment  of  a  thousand  deaths  ; 

Which  being  prick'd  by  death  (while  death  deprives 

One  life)  presents  the  soul  a  thousand  lives : 

O  frantic  mortal,  how  hath  earth  bewitch' d 

Thy  bedlam  soul,  which  hath  so  fondly  pitch'd 

Upon  her  false  delights  !  delights  that  cease 

Before  enjoyment  finds  a  time  to  please  : 

Her  fickle  joys  breed  doubtful  fears  ;  her  fears 

Bring  hopeful  griefs  ;  her  griefs  weep  fearful  tears  : 

Tears  coin  deceitful  hopes  ;  hopes  careful  doubt, 

And  surly  passion  justles  passion  out : 

To-day  we  pamper  with  a  full  repast 

Of  lavish  mirth,  at  night  we  weep  as  fast : 

To-night  we  swim  in  wealth,  and  lend  ;  to-morrow, 

We  sink  in  want,  and  find  no  friend  to  borrow. 

In  what  a  climate  doth  my  soul  reside  ? 

Where  pale-fac'd  murder,  the  first-born  of  pride, 

Sets  up  her  kingdom  in  the  very  smiles, 

And  plighted  faiths  of  men  like  crocodiles  : 

And  land,  where  each  embroider'd  satin  word 

Is  lined  with  fraud  ;  where  Mars  his  lawless  sword 

Exiles  Astraea's  balance  ;  where  that  hand 

Now  slays  his  brother,  that  new-sow'd  his  land  ; 

O  that  my  days  of  bondage  would  expire 

In  this  lewd  soil !  LORD,  how  my  soul 's  on  fire 

To  be  dissolv'd,  that  I  might  once  obtain 

Those  long'd-for  joys,  long'd  for  so  oft  in  vain ! 

If,  Moses-like,  I  may  not  live  possest 

Of  this  fair  land,  Lord,  let  me  see 't  at  least 


(  Utarlcf  Etnbh  ms. 


!8S 


S.  Ai  ..i  ST.  Soliloq.  Cap.  xii. 
My  life  Is  a  frail  life;  a  corruptible  life;  a  life  which  the 
more  it  increaseth,  the  more  it  decreaseth:  the  farther  it 
goeth,  the  nearer  it  cometh  to  death.  A  deceitful  life,  and 
like  a  shadow,  full  of  the  snares  of  death  :  now  I  rejoice,  now 
I  Languish,  now  1  flourish,  now  infirm,  now  I  live,  and  straight 
I  die;  now  I  seem  happy,  always  miserable;  now  1  laugh, 
now  I  weep  :  thus  all  things  are  subject  to  mutability,  that 
nothing  continueth  an  hour  in  one  estate  :  O  joy  above  joy, 
exceeding  all  joy,  without  which  there  is  no  joy,  when  shall 
I  enter  into  thee,  that  I  may  see  my  God,  that  dwelleth  in 
thee  ? 

Epig.  7. 

Art  thou  so  weak  ?  O  canst  thou  not  digest 
An  hour  of  travel  for  a  night  of  rest  ? 
Cheer  up,  my  soul,  call  home  thy  sp'rits,  and  bear 
One  bad  Good-Friday,  full-mouth'd  Easter 's  near. 


( )  wretdied  man  that  I  am  !  wJto  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death? — Rom.  VII.  24. 

Bi.iini.n  thy  darling,  which  thy  lustful  care 
Pampers,  for  which  thy  restless  thoughts  prepare 
"  Such  early  cares  ;  for  whom  thy  bubbling  bn>\\ 
So  often  sweats,  and  bankrupt  eyes  do  owe 
Such  midnight  scores  to  nature,  for  whose  sake 
Base  earth  is  sainted,  the  infernal  lake 
Unfear'd,  the  crown  of  glory  poorly  rated: 
Thy  God  neglected,  and  thy  brother  hated  ; 
Behold  thy  darling,  whom  thy  soul  affects 
So  dearly  ;  whom  thy  fond  indulgence  decks 
And  puppets  up  in  soft,  in  silken  weeds  ; 
Behold  the  darling,  whom  thy  fondness  feeds 
With  far-fetch'd  delicates,  the  dear-bought  gains 
Of  ill-spent  time,  the  price  of  half  my  pains  : 
Behold  thy  darling,  who,  when  clad  by  thee, 
Derides  thy  nakedness  ;  and  when  most  free, 
Proclaims  her  lover  slave  ;  and  being-  fed 
Most  full,  then  strikes  the  indulgent  feeder  dead. 
What  mean'st  thou  thus,  my  poor  deluded  soul, 
To  love  so  fondly  ?  can  the  burning  coal 


288  Quarks  Emblems. 

Of  thy  affection  last  without  the  fuel 

Of  counter  love  ?  is  thy  compeer  so  cruel, 

And  thou  so  kind  to  love,  unlov'd  again  ? 

Canst  thou  sow  favours,  and  thus  reap  disdain  ? 

Remember,  O  remember  thou  art  born 

Of  royal  blood  ;  remember  thou  art  sworn 

A  maid  of  honour  in  the  court  of  Heav'n  ; 

Remember  what  a  costly  price  was  giv'n 

To  ransom  thee  from  slav'ry  thou  wert  in  : 

And  wilt  thou  now,  my  soul,  turn  slave  again  ? 

The  Son  and  Heir  to  Heav'n's  Triune  JEHOVE 

Would  fain  become  a  suitor  for  thy  love, 

And  offers  for  thy  dow'r  his  Father's  throne, 

To  sit  for  seraphims  to  gaze  upon  ; 

He  '11  give  thee  honour,  pleasure,  wealth,  and  things 

Transcending  far  the  majesty  of  kings, 

And  wilt  thou  prostrate  to  the  odious  charms 

Of  this  base  scullion  ?  shall  his  hollow  arms 

Hug  thy  soft  sides  ?  shall  these  coarse  hands  untie 

The  sacred  zone  of  thy  virginity  ? 

For  shame,  degen'rous  soul,  let  thy  desire 

Be  quick'ned  up  with  more  heroic  fire  ; 

Be  wisely  proud,  let  thy  ambitious  eye 

Read  noble  objects  ;  let  thy  thoughts  defy 

Such  am'rous  baseness  ;  let  thy  soul  disdain 

Th'  ignoble  proffers  of  so  base  a  swain  ; 

Or  if  thy  vows  be  past,  and  Hymen's  bands 

Have  ceremonied  your  unequal  hands, 

Annul,  at  least  avoid,  thy  lawless  act 

With  insufficiency,  or  pre-contract : 

Or  if  the  act  be  good,  yet  may'st  thou  plead 

A  second  freedom  ;  or  the  flesh  is  dead. 


Quarks*  Emblems. 


\  \.  i  \\/.  Orat  xvi. 
How  I  am  joined  to  this  body  I  know  not  ;  which,  when 
it  is  healthful,  provoketh  me  to  war,  and,  being  damaged  by 
war.  affecteth  me  with  grief;  which  I  both  love  as  a  fellow- 
servant,  and  hate  as  an  utter  enemy  :  it  is  a  pleasant  foe,  and 
a  perfidious  friend.  O  strange  conjunction  and  alienation: 
what  I  fear  I  embrace,  and  what  I  love  I  am  afraid  of ;  before 
I  make  war,  I  am  reconciled:  before  I  enjoy  peace,  I  am  at 
variance. 


EPIG.  8. 

What  need  that  house  be  daub'd  with  flesh  and  blood  ? 
Hang'd  round  with  silks  and  gold  ?  repair'd  with  food  ? 
Cost  idly  spent !  that  cost  doth  but  prolong 
Thy  thraldom.     Fool,  thou  mak'st  thy  jail  too  strong. 


/  am  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart,  and  to  be 
with  Christ — Philippians  i.  23. 

What  meant  our  careful  parents  so  to  wear, 

And  lavish  out  their  ill-extended  hours, 
To  purchase  for  us  large  possessions  here, 

Which  (though  unpurchas'd)  are  too  truly  ours  ? 
What  meant  they,  ah  !  what  meant  they  to 

endure 
Such  loads  of  needless  labour,  to  procure 
And  make  that  thing  our  own,  which  was  our  own 
too  sure  ? 


What  mean  these  liv'ries  and  possessive  keys  ? 
What  mean  these  bargains,  and  these  needless 
sales  ? 
What  mean  these  jealous,  these  suspicious  ways 
Of  law-devis'd,  and  law-dissolv'd  entails  ? 

No  need  to  sweat  for  gold,  wherewith  to  buy 
Estates  of  high-priz'd  land  ;  no  need  to  tie 
Earth  to  their  heirs,  were  they  but  clogg'd  with 
earth  as  T. 


292  Quarles  Emblems. 

0  were  their  souls  but  clogg'd  with  earth  as  I, 
They  would  not  purchase  with  so  salt  an  itch  ; 

They  would  not  take  of  alms,  what  now  they  buy  ; 
Nor  call  him  happy  whom  the  world  counts  rich  ; 
They  would  not  take  such  pains,  project  and  prog, 
To  charge  their  shoulders  with  so  great  a  log  : 

Who  hath  the  greater  lands,  hath  but  the  greater  clog. 

1  cannot  do  an  act  which  earth  disdains  not ; 

I  cannot  think  a  thought  which  earth  corrupts  not ; 
I  cannot  speak  a  word  which  earth  profanes  not ; 
I  cannot  make  a  vow  earth  interrupts  not : 
If  I  but  offer  up  an  early  groan, 
Or  spread  my  wings  to  Heav'n's  long  long'd-for 
throne, 
She  darkens  my  complaints,  and  drags  my  off'ring  down. 

E'en  like  the  hawk,  (whose  keeper's  wary  hands 

Have  made  a  pris'ner  to  her  weath'ring  stock,) 

Forgetting  quite  the  pow'r  of  her  fast  bands, 

Makes  a  rank  bate  from  her  forsaken  block  ; 

But  her  too  faithful  leash  doth  soon  retain 

Her  broken  flight,  attempted  oft  in  vain  ; 

It  gives  her  loins  a  twitch,  and  tugs  her  back  again. 

So,  when  my  soul  directs  her  better  eye 

To  Heav'n's  bright  palace,  where  my  treasure  lies, 
I  spread  my  willing  wings,  but  cannot  fly  ; 
Earth  hales  me  down,  I  cannot,  cannot  rise  : 
When  I  but  strive  to  mount  the  least  degree, 
Earth  gives  a  jerk,  and  foils  me  on  my  knee  ; 
LORD,  how  my  soul  is  rack'd  betwixt  the  world  and  thee  ! 


arks'  Emblems. 

Great  God,  I  spread  my  feeble  wings  in  vain  ; 

In  vain  I  offer  my  extended  hands: 
I  cannot  mount  till  thou  unlock  my  chain; 

I  cannot  conic  till  thou  release  my  bands  : 

Which  if  thou  please  to  break,  and  then  supply 

My  wings  with  spirit,  th'  eagle  shall  not  fly 

A  pitch  that's  half  SO  fair,  nor  half  so  swift  as  I. 


S.  BONAVENT.  Soliloq.  Cap.  i. 

Ah!  sweet  Jesus,  pierce  the  marrow  of  my  soul  with  the 
healthful  shafts,of  thy  love,  that  it  may  truly  burn,  and  melt, 
and  languish,  with  the  only  desire  of  thee  :  that  it  may  desire 
to  be  dissolved,  and  to  be  with  thee  :  let  it  hunger  alone 
for  the  bread  of  life  :  let  it  thirst  after  thee,  the  spring  and 
fountain  of  eternal  light,  the  stream  of  true  pleasure  :  let  it 
always  desire  thee,  seek  thee,  and  find  thee,  and  sweetly  rest 
in  thee. 

Epig.  9. 
What,  will  thy  shackles  neither  loose  nor  break  ? 
Are  they  too  strong,  or  is  thine  arm  too  weak  ? 
Art  will  prevail  where  knotty  strength  denies  ; 
My  soul,  there's  aquafortis  in  thine  eyes. 


•ir^fni 


Bring  my  soul  out  of  prison,  that  1  may  praise  thy  name 
—Psalm  cxlii.  7. 

My  soul  is  like  a  bird,  my  flesh  the  cage, 

Wherein  she  wears  her  weary  pilgrimage 

Of  hours,  as  few  as  evil,  daily  fed 

With  sacred  wine  and  sacramental  bread  ; 

The  keys  that  lock  her  in  and  let  her  out, 

Are  birth  and  death  ;  'twixt  both  she  hops  about 

From  perch  to  perch,  from  sense  to  reason  ;  then 

From  higher  reason  down  to  sense  again  : 

From  sense  she  climbs  to  faith  ;  where  for  a  season 

She  sits  and  sings  ;  then  down  again  to  reason  : 

From  reason  back  to  faith,  and  straight  from  thence 

She  rudely  flutters  to  the  perch  of  sense  : 

From  sense  to  hope  ;  then  hops  from  hope  to  doubt, 

From  doubt  to  dull  despair  ;  there  seeks  about 

For  desp'rate  freedom,  and  at  ev'ry  grate 

She  wildly  thrusts,  and  begs  the  untimely  date 

Of  th'  unexpir'd  thraldom,  to  release 

The  afflicted  captive,  that  can  find  no  peace. 

Thus  am  I  coop'd  ;  within  this  fleshly  cage 

I  wear  my  youth,  and  waste  my  weary  age  ; 


296  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Spending  that  breath,  which  was  ordain'd  to  chant 
Heav'n's  praises  forth,  in  sighs  and  sad  complaint : 
Whilst  happier  birds  can  spread  their  nimble  wing 
From  shrubs  to  cedars,  and  there  chirp  and  sing, 
In  choice  of  raptures,  the  harmonious  story 
Of  man's  redemption,  and  his  Maker's  glory  : 
You  glorious  martyrs,  you  illustrious  stoops, 
That  once  were  cloister'd  in  your  fleshly  coops 
As  fast  as  I,  what  rhet'ric  had  your  tongues  ? 
What  dext'rous  art  had  your  elegiac  songs  ? 
What  Paul-like  pow'r  had  your  admir'd  devotion  ? 
What  shackle-breaking  faith  infus'd  such  motion 
To  your  strong  pray'r,  that  could  obtain  the  boon 
To  be  enlarg'd  ;  to  be  uncag'd  so  soon  ? 
W7hilst  I,  poor  I,  can  sing  my  daily  tears, 
Grown  old  in  bondage,  and  can  find  no  ears  ; 
You  great  partakers  of  eternal  glory, 
That  with  your  Heav'n-prevailing  oratory 
Releas'd  your  souls  from  your  terrestrial  cage, 
Permit  the  passion  of  my  holy  rage 
To  recommend  my  sorrows,  dearly  known 
To  you,  in  days  of  old,  and  once  your  own, 
To  your  best  thoughts,  (but  oh  't  doth  not  befit  ye 
To  move  your  prayers  ;  you  love  joy,  not  pity  :) 
Great  LORD  of  souls,  to  whom  should  pris'ners  fly 
But  thee  ?  thou  hadst  a  cage  as  well  as  I  ; 
And,  for  my  sake,  thy  pleasure  was  to  know 
The  sorrows  that  it  brought,  and  felt'st  them  too  : 
O  let  me  free,  and  I  will  spend  those  days, 
Which  now  I  waste  in  begging,  in  thy  praise. 


•  .W  Emblems. 


A.NS1  i  m.  in  Proti         I  ap.  i. 
0  miserable  condition  of  mankind,  that  has  lost  that  for 

which  he  was  created!  alas!  [what  li.it h  he  lost?  and  what 
hath  he  found?  he  hath  lost  happiness  for  which  he  was 
made,  and  found  misery  for  which  he  was  not  made:  wh.it  is 
gone?  and  what  Is  left?  that  thing  is  gone,  without  which  he 
is  unhappy;  that  thing  is  left,  by  which  he  is  miserable:  0 
wretched  men  !  from  whence  are  we  expelled  ?  to  what  are 
we  impelled  ?  whence  are  we  thrown  ?  and  whither  are  we 
hurried?  from  our  homeiinto  banishment;  from  the  sight  of 
G(  'I)  into  our  own  blindness  ;  from  the  pleasure  of  immortality 
to  the  bitterness  of  death  :  miserable  change  ;  from  how  great 
a  good,  to  how  great  an  evil !  ah  me  !  what  have  I  enter- 
prised  ?   what  have  I  done  ?   whither  did  I  go  ?   whither  am  I 


come 


,  ^ 


EpiCx.  io. 
Paul's  midnight  voice  prevail'd  ;  his  music's  thunder 
Unhing'd  the  prison-doors,  split  bolts  in  sunder : 
And  sitt'st  thou  here,  and  hang'st  the  feeble  wing  ? 
And  whin'st  to  be  enlarged  ?  soul,  learn  to  sing. 


As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul 

after  thee,  O  God. — Psalm  \\.\\.  i. 

How  shall  my  tongue  express  that  hallow'd  fire, 

Which  Heav'n  hath  kindled  in  my  ravish'd  heart  ! 
What  muse  shall  I  invoke,  that  will  inspire 

My  lowly  quill  to  act  a  lofty  part ! 
What  art  shall  I  devise  t'  express  desire, 
Too  intricate  to  be  express'd  by  art ! 
Let  all  the  nine  be  silent  ;   I  refuse 
Their  aid  in  this  high  task,  for  they  abuse 
The  flames  of  love  too  much  :  assist  me,  David's  muse. 


Not  as  the  thirsty  soil  desires  soft  show'rs 

To  quicken  and  refresh  her  embryon  grain  ; 
Nor  as  the  drooping  crests  of  fading  flow'rs 

Request  the  bounty  of  a  morning  rain, 
Do  I  desire  my  God  :  these  in  few  hours 
Re-wish  what  late  their  wishes  did  obtain  ; 
But  as  the  swift-foot  hart  doth  wounded  fly 
To  th'  much-desired  streams,  even  so  do  I 
Pant  after  thee,  my  God,  whom  I  must  find,  or  die. 


300  Quarks  Emblems. 

Before  a  pack  of  deep-mouth'd  lusts  I  flee  ; 

O,  they  have  singled  out  my  panting  heart, 
And  wanton  Cupid,  sitting  in  the  tree, 

Hath  piere'd  my  bosom  with  a  flaming  dart  : 
My  soul  being  spent,  for  refuge  seeks  to  thee, 
But  cannot  find  where  thou  my  refuge  art  : 
Like  as  the  swift-foot  hart  doth  wounded  fly 
To  the  desired  streams,  e'en  so  do  I 
Pant  after  thee,  my  God,  whom  I  must  find,  or  die. 

At  length,  by  flight,  I  overwent  the  pack  ; 

Thou  drew'st  the  wanton  dart  from  out  my 
wound  ; 
The  blood  that  follow' d  left  a  purple  track, 

Which  brought  a  serpent,  but  in  shape  a  hound, 
We  strove,  he  bit  me  ;  but  thou  break'st  his  back, 
I  left  him  prov'lincf  on  th'  envenomed  ground  ; 
But  as  the  serpent-bitten  hart  doth  fly 
To  the  long  long'd-for  streams,  e'en  so  do  I 
Pant  after  thee,  my  God,  whom  I  must  find,  or  die. 

If  love  should  chase  my  soul,  made  swift  by  fright, 
Thou  art  the  stream  whereto  my  soul  is  bound  : 
Or  if  a  jav'lin  wound  my  sides  in  flight, 

Thou  art  the  balsam  that  must  cure  my  wound  : 
If  poison  chance  t'  infest  my  soul  in  fight, 

Thou  art  the  treacle  that  must  make  me  sound 
E'en  as  the  wounded  hart,  embost,  doth  fly 
To  th'  streams  extremely  long'd-for,  so  do  I 
Pant  after  thee,  my  God,  whom  I  must  find,  or  die. 


■  .'i'S   1:  in I'U  itis. 


301 


S.  CYRILn  Lib.  v.  in  Joh.  Cap.  X. 
0  precious  water,  which  quencheth  the  noisome  thirst  of 
this  world,  scoureth  all  the  stains  of  sinners,  that  watereth 
tlu-  earth  of  our  souls  with  heavenly  showers,  and  bringeth 
back  the  thirst}-  heart  of  man  to  his  only  GOD. 

S.  August.  Soliloq.  Cap.  xxxv. 

O  fountain  of  life,  and  vein  of  living  waters,  when  shall  I 
leave  this  forsaken,  impassable,  and  dry  earth,  and  taste  the 
waters  of  thy  sweetness,  that  I  may  behold  thy  virtue  and  thy 
glory,  and  slake  my  thirst  with  the  streams  of  thy  mercy  ! 
LORD,  I  thirst,  thou  art  the  spring  of  life,  satisfy  me  :  I  thirst, 
Lord,  I  thirst  after  thee,  the  living  GOD  ! 

EPIG.  11. 
The  arrow-smitten  hart,  deep-wounded,  flies 
To  th'  springs,  with  water  in  his  weeping  eyes  : 
Heav'n  is  thy  spring  :  if  Satan's  fiery  dart 
Pierce  thy  faint  sides  :  do  so,  my  wounded  heart. 


rtr 


When  shall  I  come  and  appear  before  God? — Psalm  xi.ii.  2. 


What  is  my  soul  the  better  to  be  tinn'd 

With  holy  fire  ?  what  boots  it  to  be  coin'd 

With  Heav'n's  own  stamp?  what  'vantage  can  there  be 

To  souls  of  Heav'n-descended  pedigree, 

More  than  to  beasts  that  grovel  ?  are  not  they 

Fed  by  the  Almighty's  hand  ?  and  ev'ry  day 

Fill'd  with  his  blessings  too  ?  do  they  not  see 

God  in  his  creatures,  as  direct  as  we  ? 

Do  they  not  taste  thee  ?  hear  thee  ?  nay,  what  sense 

Is  not  partaker  of  thine  excellence  ? 

What  more  do  we  ?  alas  !  what  serves  our  reason, 

But,  like  dark  lanthorns,  to  accomplish  treason 

With  greater  closeness  ?     It  affords  no  light, 

Brings  thee  no  nearer  to  our  purblind  sight  : 

No  pleasure  rises  up  the  least  degree, 

Great  God,  but  in  the  clearer  view  of  thee  : 

What  priv'lege  more  than  sense  hath  reason  then  ? 

WThat  'vantage  is  it  to  be  born  a  man  ? 

How  often  hath  my  patience  built,  dear  Lori>, 

Vain  tow'rs  of  hope  upon  thy  gracious  word  ? 


304  Quarks'  Emblems. 

How  often  hath  thy  hope-reviving  grace 

Woo'd  my  suspicious  eyes  to  seek  thy  face  ? 

How  often  have  I  sought  thee  ?     O  how  long 

Hath  expectation  taught  my  perfect  tongue 

Repeated  pray'rs,  yet  pray'rs  could  ne'er  obtain  ! 

In  vain  I  seek  thee,  and  I  beg  in  vain  : 

If  it  be  high  presumption  to  behold 

Thy  face,  why  didst  thou  make  mine  eyes  so  bold 

To  seek  it  ?  if  that  object  be  too  bright 

For  man's  aspect,  why  did  thy  lips  invite 

Mine  eye  t'  expect  it  ?     If  it  might  be  seen, 

Why  is  this  envious  curtain  drawn  between 

My  darken'd  eye  and  it  ?     O  tell  me,  why 

Thou  dost  command  the  thing  thou  dost  deny  ? 

Why  dost  thou  give  me  so  unpriz'd  a  treasure, 

And  then  deny'st  my  greedy  soul  the  pleasure 

To  view  my  gift  ?     Alas  !  that  gift  is  void, 

And  is  no  gift,  that  may  not  be  enjoy' d  : 

If  those  refulgent  beams  of  Heav'n's  great  light 

Gild  not  the  day,  what  is  the  day  but  night  ? 

The  drowsy  shepherd  sleeps,  flow'rs  droop  and  fade 

The  birds  are  sullen,  and  the  beasts  are  sad  : 

But  if  bright  Titan  dart  his  golden  ray, 

And  with  his  riches  glorify  the  day, 

The  jolly  shepherd  pipes  ;  flow'rs  freshly  spring  ; 

The  beasts  grow  gamesome,  and  the  birds  they  sing. 

Thou  art  my  sun,  great  GOD  !  O  when  shall  I 

View  the  full  beams  of  thy  meridian  eye  ? 

Draw,  draw  this  fleshly  curtain,  that  denies 

The  gracious  presence  of  thy  glorious  eyes  ; 

Or  give  me  faith  ;  and,  by  the  eye  of  grace, 

I  shall  behold  thee,  though  not  face  to  face. 


QuarUs*  Emblems. 


S.  A  i  (.1ST.  in  Psal.  xxxix. 
Who  created  all  things,  is  better  than  all  things:  who 
beautified  all  things,  is  more  beautiful  than  all  things:  who 
made  strength,  is  stronger  than  all  things:  who  made  great 
things,  is  greater  than  all  things:  whatsoever  thou  lovest,  he- 
is  that  to  thee:  learn  to  love  the  workman  in  his  work,  the 
Creator  in  his  creature  :  let  not  that  which  was  made  by  him 
possess  thee,  lest  thou  lose  him  by  whom  thyself  was  made. 


S.  August.  Med.  Cap.  xxxvii. 
O  thou  most  sweet,  most  gracious,  most  amiable,  most  fair, 
when  shall  I  see   thee  ?   when  shall  I    be  satisfied  with  thy 
beauty  ?  when  wilt  thou  lead  me  from  this  dark  dungeon,  that 
I  may  confess  thy  name  ? 

Epig.  12. 
How  art  thou  shaded,  in  this  veil  of  night, 
Behind  thy  curtain  flesh  ?     Thou  seest  no  light, 
But  what  thy  pride  doth  challenge  as  her  own  ; 
Thy  flesh  is  high  :  Soul,  take  this  curtain  down. 


()  that  I  had  icings  like  a  dove!  for  then  would  f  fly  away,  and 
be  at  rest. — PSALM  LV.  6. 

And  am  I  sworn  a  dunghill-slave  for  ever 

To  earth's  base  drudg'ry  ?     Shall  I  never  find 
A  night  of  rest  ?     Shall  my  indentures  never 

Be  cancell'd  ?     Did  injurious  nature  bind 
My  soul  earth's  'prentice,  with  no  clause  to  leave  her  ? 
No  day  of  freedom  ?     Must  I  ever  grind  ? 
O  that  I  had  the  pinions  of  a  dove, 
That  I  might  quit  my  bands,  and  soar  above, 
And  pour  my  just  complaints  before  the  great  JEHOVE  ! 

How  happy  are  the  doves,  that  have  the  pow'r, 

Whene'er  they  please,  to  spread  their  airy  wings  ! 
Or  cloud-dividing  eagles,  that  can  tow'r 

Above  the  scent  of  these  inferior  things  ! 
How  happy  is  the  lark,  that  ev'ry  hour 

Leaves  earth,  and  then  for  joy  mounts  up  and  sings  ! 
Had  my  dull  soul  but  wings  as  well  as  they, 
How  I  would  spring  from  earth,  and  clip  away, 
As  wise  Astraea  did,  and  scorn  this  ball  of  clay  ! 

X  a 


308  Quarks  Emblems. 

O  how  my  soul  would  spurn  this  ball  of  clay, 

And  loathe  the  dainties  of  earth's  painful  pleasure  ! 
O  how  I  'd  laugh  to  see  men  night  and  day 

Turmoil  to  gain  that  trash,  they  call  their  treasure  ! 
O  how  I  'd  smile  to  see  what  plots  they  lay 
To  catch  a  blast,  or  own  a  smile  from  Caesar ! 
Had  I  the  pinions  of  a  mounting  dove, 
How  I  would  soar  and  sing,  and  hate  the  love 
Of  transitory  toys,  and  feed  on  joys  above  ! 

There  should  I  find  that  everlasting  pleasure, 

Which  change  removes  not,  and  which  chance  pre- 
vents not ; 
There  should  I  find  that  everlasting;;  treasure, 

Which  force  deprives  not,  fortune  disaugments  not ; 
There  should  I  find  that  everlasting  Caesar, 

Whose  hand  recalls  not,  and  whose  heart  repents 
not ; 
Had  I  the  pinions  of  a  clipping  dove, 
How  I  would  climb  the  skies,  and  hate  the  love 
Of  transitory  toys,  and  joy  in  things  above  ! 

No  rank-mouth'd  slander  there  shall  give  offence, 
Or  blast  our  blooming  names,  as  here  they  do  ; 
No  liver-scalding  lust  shall  there  incense 

Our  boiling  veins  ;  there  is  no  Cupid's  bow  : 
LORD,  give  my  soul  the  milk-white  innocence 
01  doves,  and  I  shall  have  their  pinions  too  : 
Had  I  the  pinions  of  a  clipping  dove, 
How  I  would  quit  this  earth,  and  soar  above, 
And  Heav'n's  bless'd   kingdom  find,  and   Heav'n's 
bless'd  King  JEHOVE  ! 


Quarks*  Emblems. 


S.  AUGl  ST.  in  Psal.  cxxxviil 
What  wings  should  I  desire,  but  the  two  precepts  of  love, 
on  which  the  law  and  the  prophets  depend!     O  if  1  could 

obtain  these  wings,  I  could  fly  from  thy  face  to  thy  face,  from 

the  face  of  thy  justice  to  the  face  of  thy  mercy:  let  us  find 
those  wings  by  love,  which  we  have  lost  by  lust 


S.  August,  in  Psal.  Ixxvi. 

Let  us  cast  off  whatsoever  hindereth,  entangleth,  or  bur- 
deneth  our  flight,  until  we  attain  that  which  satisfieth;  beyond 
which  nothing  is  ;  beneath  which  all  things  are  ;  of  which  all 
things  are. 

EPIG.  13. 
Tell  me,  my  wishing  soul,  didst  ever  try 
How  fast  the  wings  of  red-cross'd  faith  can  fly  ? 
Why  begg'st  thou,  then,  the  pinions  of  a  dove  ? 
Faith's  wings  are  swifter,  but  the  swiftest,  love. 


How  amiable  arc  thy  tabernacles,  0  Lord  of  hosts  ! — PSALM 

LXXXIV.  I. 


ANCIENT  of  days,  to  whom  all  times  arc  NOW, 

Before  whose  glory  seraphims  do  bow 

Their  blushing  cheeks,  and  veil  their  blemish'd  faces, 

That,  uncontain'd,  at  once  dost  fill  all  places  ; 

How  glorious,  O  how  far  beyond  the  height 

Of  puzzled  quills,  or  the  obtuse  conceit 

Of  flesh  and  blood,  or  the  too  flat  reports 

Of  mortal  tongues,  are  thy  expressless  courts  ! 

Whose  glory  to  paint  forth  with  greater  art, 

Ravish  my  fancy,  and  inspire  my  heart  ; 

Excuse  my  bold  attempt,  and  pardon  me 

For  showing  sense,  what  faith  alone  should  see. 

Ten  thousand  millions,  and  ten  thousand  more 

Of  angel-measured  leagues,  from  the  eastern  shore 

Of  dungeon-earth,  his  glorious  palace  stands, 

Before  whose  pearly  gates  ten  thousand  bands 

Of  armed  angels  wait  to  entertain 

Those  purged  souls,  for  which  the  Lamb  was  slain  ; 

Whose  guiltless  death,  and  voluntary  yielding 

Of  whose  giv'n  life,  gave  the  brave  court  her  building  ; 


312  Quarks'  Emblems. 

The  lukewarm  blood  of  this  dear  Lamb,  being  spilt, 
To  rubies  turn'd,  whereof  her  posts  were  built ; 
And  what  dropp'd  down  in  a  kind  gelid  gore, 
Did  turn  rich  sapphires,  and  did  pave  her  floor : 
The  brighter  flames,  that  from  his  eye-balls  ray'd 
Grew  chrysolites,  whereof  her  walls  were  made  : 
The  milder  glances  sparkled  on  the  ground, 
And  groundsill'd  ev'ry  door  with  diamond  ; 
But  dying,  darted  upwards,  and  did  fix 
A  battlement  of  purest  sardonyx. 
Her  streets  with  burnish'd  gold  are  paved  round  ; 
Stars  lie  like  pebbles  scatter'd  on  the  ground  : 
Pearl  mixt  with  onyx,  and  the  jasper  stone, 
Made  gravell'd  causeways  to  be  trampled  on. 
There  shines  no  sun  by  day,  no  moon  by  night ; 
The  palace  glory  is,  the  palace  light  : 
There  is  no  time  to  measure  motion  by, 
There  time  is  swallowed  in  eternity  : 
Wry-mouth'd  disdain,  and  corner-hunting  lust, 
And  twy-fae'd  fraud,  and  beetle-brow'd  distrust, 
Soul-boiling  rage,  and  trouble-state  sedition, 
And  giddy  doubt,  and  goggle-ey'd  suspicion, 
And  lumpish  sorrow,  and  degen'rous  fear, 
Are  banish'd  thence,  and  death  's  a  stranger  there  : 
But  simple  love,  and  sempiternal  joys, 
Whose  sweetness  never  gluts,  nor  fulness  cloys  : 
Where  face  to  face  our  ravish'd  eye  shall  see 
Great  ELOHIM,  that  glorious  One  in  Three, 
And  Three  in  One,  and  seeing  him  shall  bless  him, 
And  blessing,  love  him  ;  and  in  love  possess  him. 
Here  stay,  my  soul,  and,  ravish'd  in  relation, 
The  words  being  spent,  spend  now  in  contemplation. 


Ouarlcs  Emblems. 


3 '3 


S.  GREG.  In  Psal.  vii.  Poeriitent. 
Sweet  Jesus,  the  Word  of  the  Father,  the  brightness  of 
paternal  glory,  whom  angels  delight  to  view,  teach  me  to  do 
thy  will  ;  that,  led  by  thy  good  Spirit,  I  may  come  to  that 
blessed  city,  where  day  is  eternal,  where  there  is  certain  secu- 
rity, and  secure  eternity  ;  and  eternal  peace,  and  peaceful 
happiness  ;  and  happy  sweetness,  and  sweet  pleasure,  where 
thou,  O  GOD,  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  livest  and 
reignest  world  without  end. 

Ibidem. 
There  is  light  without  darkness  ;  joy  without  grief;  desire 
without  punishment ;  love  without  sadness  ;  satiety  without 
loathing  :   safety  without  fear  ;   health  without  disease  ;   and 
life  without  death. 

EPIG.  14. 
My  soul,  pry  not  too  nearly  ;  the  complexion 
Of  Sol's  bright  face  is  seen  by  the  reflection  : 
But  would'st  thou  know  what 's  Heav'n  ?  I  '11  tell  thee  what : 
Think  what  thou  canst  not  think,  and  Heav'n  is  that. 


Make  /taste,  my  beloved,  and  be  like  the  roc  or  the  young  hart 

upon  the  mountains  of  spices. — CANTICLES  VIII.  14. 

Go,  gentle  tyrant,  go  ;  thy  flames  do  pierce 
My  soul  too  deep  ;  thy  flames  are  too,  too  fierce  ; 
My  marrow  melts,  my  fainting  spirits  fry 
In  th'  torrid  zone  of  thy  meridian  eye  : 
Away,  away,  thy  sweets  are  too  perfuming  : 
Turn,  turn  thy  face,  thy  fires  are  too  consuming  : 
Haste  hence,  and  let  thy  winged  steps  outgo 
The  frighted  roebuck,  and  his  flying  roe. 


But  wilt  thou  leave  me,  then  ?    O  thou,  that  art 
Life  of  my  soul,  soul  of  my  dying  heart, 
Without  the  sweet  aspect  of  whose  fair  eyes 
My  soul  doth  languish,  and  her  solace  dies  ? 
Art  thou  so  eas'ly  woo'd  ?  so  apt  to  hear 
The  frantic  language  of  my  foolish  fear  ?    . 

Leave,  leave  me  not,  nor  turn  thy  beauty  from 
me  ; 

Look,  look  upon  me,  tho'  thine  eyes  o'ercome 
me. 


3 16  Quarks'  Emblems. 

0  how  they  wound  !  but  how  my  wounds  content 

me ! 
How  sweetly  these  delightful  pains  torment  me ! 
How  am  I  tortur'd  in  excessive  measure 
Of  pleasing  cruelties  !  too  cruel  treasure  ! 
Turn,  turn  away,  remove  thy  scorching  beams  ; 

1  languish  with  these  bitter-sweet  extremes  : 

Haste,  then,  and  let  thy  winged  steps  outgo 
The  flying  roebuck,  and  his  frighted  roe. 

Turn  back,  my  dear ;  O  let  my  ravish'd  eye 
Once  more  behold  thy  face  before  thou  fly  ; 
What,  shall  we  part  without  a  mutual  kiss  ? 

0  who  can  leave  so  sweet  a  face  as  this  ? 
Look  full  upon  me  ;  for  my  soul  desires 
To  turn  a  holy  martyr  in  those  fires  : 

O  leave  me  not,  nor  turn  thy  beauty  from  me  ; 
Look,  look  upon  me,  tho'  thy  flames  o'ercome  me. 

If  thou  becloud  the  sunshine  of  thine  eye, 

1  freeze  to  death  ;  and  if  it  shine,  I  fry  ; 
Which,  like  a  fever  that  my  soul  hath  got, 
Makes  me  to  burn  too  cold,  or  freeze  too  hot : 
Alas  !  I  cannot  bear  so  sweet  a  smart, 

Nor  canst  thou  be  less  glorious  than  thou  art. 
Haste,  then,  and  let  thy  winged  steps  outgo 
The  frighted  roebuck,  and  his  flying  roe. 

But  go  not  far  beyond  the  reach  of  breath  ; 
Too  large  a  distance  makes  another  death  : 
My  youth  is  in  her  spring  ;  autumnal  vows 
Will  make  me  riper  for  so  sweet  a  spouse  ; 


Quarles*  Emblems.  317 

When  after-times  have  burnish'd  tny  desire, 
I'll  shoot  thee  Barnes  for  flames,  and  fire  for  fire. 

O  leave  me  not,  nor  turn  thy  beauty  from  me  ; 

Look,  look  upon  me,  though  thy  flames  overcome 
me ! 


Autor  Scalaj  Paradisi.  Tom.  ix.  Aug.  Cap.  viii. 
Fear  not,  O  bride,  nor  despair  ;  think  not  thyself  con- 
temned if  thy  Bridegroom  withdraw  his  face  a  while,  all  things 
co-operate  for  the  best  ;  both  from  his  absence,  and  his  pre- 
sence, thou  gainest  light :  he  cometh  to  thee,  and  he  goeth 
from  thee  :  he  cometh,  to  make  thee  consolate  ;  he  goeth,  to 
make  thee  cautious,  lest  thy  abundant  consolation  puff  thee 
up  :  he  cometh,  that  thy  languishing  soul  may  be  comforted  ; 
he  goeth,  lest  his  familiarity  should  be  contemned  ;  and  being 
absent,  to  be  more  desired  ;  and  being  desired,  to  be  more 
earnestly  sought ;  and  being  long  sought,  to  be  more  accept- 
ably found. 

EPIG.  15. 
My  soul,  sin's  monster,  whom  with  greater  ease 
Ten  thousand  fold  thy  God  could  make  than  please, 
What  would'st  thou  have  ?    Nor  pleas'd  with  sun  nor 

shade  ? 
Heav'n  knows  not  what  to  make  of  what  he  made. 


#  * 


Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thec  a  crown  of  lift 

— Rev.  ii.  10. 

Be  faithful  ;  Lord,  what 's  that  ? 
Believe  :  'T  is  easy  to  believe  ;  but  what  ? 

That  he,  whom  thy  hard  heart  hath  wounded, 

And  whom  thy  scorn  hath  spit  upon, 
Hath  paid  thy  fine,  and  hath  compounded 

For  these  foul  deeds  thy  hands  have  done  : 
Believe  that  he  whose  gentle  palms 

Thy  needle-pointed  sins  have  nail'd, 
Hath  borne  thy  slavish  load  (of  alms) 

And  made  supply  where  thou  hast  fail'd  : 
Did  ever  mis'ry  find  so  strange  relief? 
It  is  a  love  too  strange  for  man's  belief. 

Believe  that  he,  whose  side 
Thy  crimes  have  piere'd  with  their  rebellions,  died 
To  save  thy  guilty  soul  from  dying 

Ten  thousand  horrid  deaths,  from  whence 
There  was  no  'scape,  there  was  no  flying, 

But  through  his  dearest  blood's  expense  ; 


320  Quarks'  Emblems. 

Believe,  this  dying  friend  requires 
No  other  thanks  for  all  his  pain, 
But  e'en  the  truth  of  weak  desires, 
And,  for  his  love,  but  love  again  : 
Did  ever  mis'ry  find  so  true  a  friend  ? 
It  is  a  love  too  vast  to  comprehend. 

With  floods  of  tears  baptize 
And  drench  these  dry,  these  unregen'rate  eyes ; 
LORD,  whet  my  dull,  my  blunt  belief, 

And  break  this  fleshly  rock  in  sunder, 
That  from  this  heart,  this  hell  of  grief, 

May  spring  a  Heav'n  of  love  and  wonder : 
O,  if  thy  mercies  will  remove 

And  melt  this  lead  from  my  belief, 
My  grief  will  then  refine  my  love, 
My  love  will  then  refresh  my  grief: 
Then  weep,  mine  eyes,  as  he  hath  bled ;  vouchsafe 
To  drop  for  ev'ry  drop  an  epitaph. 

But  is  the  crown  of  glory 
The  wages  of  a  lamentable  story  ? 
Or  can  so  great  a  purchase  rise 

For  a  salt  humour  ?     Can  mine  eyes 
Run  fast  enough  t'  obtain  this  prize  ? 
If  so,  LORD,  who  's  so  mad  to  die  ? 
Thy  tears  are  trifles  ;  thou  must  do  : 
Alas  !  I  cannot ;  then  endeavour  : 
I  will ;  but  will  a  tug  or  two] 

Suffice  the  turn  ?     Thou  must  persevere  : 
I  '11  strive  till  death  ;  and  shall  my  feeble  strife 
Be  crown'd  ?     I  '11  crown  it  with  a  crown  of  life. 


QuarieJ  limb  Ions. 


\2\ 


But  is  there  Mich  a  dearth, 

That  thou  must  l)ii)'  what  is  thy  due  by  birth  ? 

lie  whom  thy  hands  did  h>nn  of  dust, 

Ami  give  him  breath,  upon  condition 
To  love  his  great  Creator;   must 

I  [e  now  be  thine  by  composition  ? 
Art  thou  a  gracious  Gon  and  mild, 

Or  headstrong  man,  rebellious,  rather  ? 
O,  man  's  a  base  rebellious  child, 

And  thou  a  very  gracious  Father. 
The  gift  is  thine  ;  we  strive,  thou  crown'st  our  strife  ; 
Thou  giv'st  us  faith  :  and  faith  a  crown  of  life. 


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